


Delta

by EonAO3



Series: STRIKE [4]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: AU, Action, Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Divergence - Post-Avengers (2012), Canon Divergence - Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Canon-Typical Violence, Drinking, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fighting, Hydra (Marvel), Injury, Post-Avengers (2012), Secret Empire, Weapons, references to violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-23
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:40:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 28
Words: 95,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22864183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EonAO3/pseuds/EonAO3
Summary: The Triskelion is home to some of the most lethal counterintelligence operatives in the world, and some of her darkest secrets. The men and women of SHIELD’s STRIKE Team Delta keep them all.Part 4 of the STRIKE Series follows Allison Addams into a different world of spies, where truth and lies lose their identity in deeper shades of grey and orders come from the blackest shadow.
Series: STRIKE [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/872112
Comments: 166
Kudos: 51





	1. Chapter 1

April 2011

  
“ _Hey, Gringo_?”

“Hm,” he hummed softly in reply to the voice in his concealed earpiece.

“ _Uhh, heads up_ ,” his controller advised, sounding a bit distracted. “ _We’ve got a sparrow coming in to the AO. …Not clear where they’re coming from, but they’ve got a broken wing_.”

Rollins’ eyes scanned around the room using the bar mirror to see if anyone was watching him before he looked like he was talking to himself. The bar was pretty empty for the weekday evening and Jack hid his question behind his glass. “How bad?”

“ _They can fly, but I don’t have details_.”

“Who is it?” he checked. He allowed a long pause before pressing, “Well?”

“ _Checking. Waiting for the link to TOC 3. ...Still standing by_.”

“For fuck’s sake,” he muttered to himself. He couldn’t blame the guy at the console in DC. At least it sounded like he shared his frustration and was working the problem. But still, “I need a name. _Some_ thing.”

“ _We’re working on it_ ,” the controller promised. “ _All I got is it’s one of the Horsemen, comin’ in on foot_.”

“Not exactly helpful,” Jack grumbled.

“ _Yeah, I know_ ,” he agreed, starting to sound as impatient as Rollins felt. “... _Gringo_ _, I don’t have a name. I got an ETA of 3 to 5 mikes, but I still don’t have a link to their controller. I’m just seeing the flash messages. I’m gonna send a runner over to TOC 3 and get someone to pick up the fuckin’ phone and talk to us_.”

“1 in 4’s not bad odds,” he reasoned. “I’ll figure it out.”

“ _I’ll advise any updates_.”

“Copy,” Jack mumbled, ahead of the last sip of his drink.

The bartender wandered by again and Jack motioned for him to stop. He tipped his head to the activity outside the window on the street, asking what was going on. The bartender looked outside as a pair of police cars running their sirens stopped at the curb. The man explained, in a thick, local accent, “Someone killed the Jackal. Police are looking for anyone suspicious, tourists traveling alone.”

He nodded his thanks for the information and ordered another shot of the hotel’s watered down whiskey, taking a casual look across the windows, trying to spot whoever the Horseman in trouble was. He only saw the police and curious locals looking back over shoulders as they passed the authorities. His next drink was poured and Jack dropped another bill on the counter for the bartender to pick up next time he went by.

“ _Watching the clock, they should be there soon. See anything_?”

“M-mm,” he negatively hummed. “Local cops just showed up, though.”

Jack turned over his shoulder, hearing a commotion behind him and seeing the police coming into the lobby. The rest of the patrons staring gave Jack permission to watch without drawing any attention to himself. The senior officer was just assigning duties to his men, when a woman walked in alone. She stopped, eyes scanning the lobby, as an officer approached her. She turned her head, still looking for something when she locked eyes with Jack. Rollins sat up a little straighter, setting his glass back on the bar.

“What?” she distractedly asked, still looking at Jack as he stood up from his barstool across the way. She gave her attention to the officer, feigning ignorance of the language and apologetically begging, “I’m sorry. What?”

“You’re passport, Miss,” the officer insisted again, this time in English.

“Passport?” she questioned, giving a small shake of her head in confusion. “Oh, yes, of course. Sorry. It’s in-”

“It’s okay, uh, Officer? Sir,” Jack spoke up, sliding his palm across the small of her back, stopping to stand with her at his hip. “There you are,” he grinned down at her. “Thought you got lost, or something.”

The flash of relief at seeing a familiar face beside her was unmistakable. A small part of Jack was relieved to see her, too. He’d have a harder time selling a cover for any of the other Horsemen. With a woman, it was easy. The odds of this ending in a blood soaked mess were greatly reduced.

“It’s okay,” he promised the cop again, with a sheepish grin, keeping her close and holding up his free hand as a sign of submission. He fumbled through an apology in piss poor Spanish, as if he wasn’t fluent, and explained, “She’s with me. Sorry, Officer.”

Before the officer could push the issue any further, Jack turned away, guiding her to move with him by taking her hand in his. He offered another poorly executed apology to the officer, as they went. With a friendly grin, Jack glanced over his shoulder, giving a small awkward wave goodbye. When he turned his attention forward again, his face instantly sobered and he quietly checked, “You okay, Lieutenant?”

Addams answered with a subtle nod. “Got into a fight. Got nicked.”

“What were you doing so close?” he scowled, glancing down at the brown leather tote on her shoulder she was clutching to her side.

“I wasn’t,” she frowned. “I got cornered on my exfil by a couple soldiers checking IDs. They tried to take me in. One got off a shot.”

“GSW?” he worried.

“Just grazed,” she shook her head. “Still bleeding. Probably need some stitches.”

“Can they ID you?”

“No. They’re dead.” 

“What’s in the bag?” 

“Nothing,” she shook her head. “I swiped it to hide the wound.”

He nodded. “Let’s get upstairs.” Opening his mic, he updated his controller that, “Sparrow secured. Gonna need some Room Service.”

“ _Copy, Gringo. Sparrow secure._ _What do you need? You're not set up for anything on this one_.”

“Suture kit, towels, anything to numb and clean,” he rattled off.

“ _I’ll see what we can do_.”

...

Upstairs, Jack unlocked the door to his two room suite. He ushered Allison in ahead of him, with his hand at her back. He eyed the pair of police officers coming down the hall behind them. He slipped into the room, shutting the door behind him and hastily throwing the bolt shut. He and Allison both stood motionless, ears tilted to the door and listening to hear the officers pass by. When the voices and footsteps had faded away, Allison let out a breath, leaning her shoulder and head against the door. She watched Rollins step away, moving to the windows on the other side of the room to check the street below.

Allison turned her attention down, slipping the bag off her shoulder and setting it on the table nearby. With the tote out of the way, she quickly put her hand to her side, catching the scarf she had been holding there behind the bag before it fell away. She winced at the shot of pain that went up her side, sucking in a short breath as she reapplied pressure. Jack noticed the small sound and turned to see her grimacing, as she carefully moved to sit on the couch. Easing back into the cushion, she let out a tired sigh.

Not entirely confident they were out of danger yet, Rollins kept an eye on the street, saying, “Thanks a lot, asshole.”

Tilting her head to see him over the back of the couch, she balked, “ _Excuse me_?”

“You heard me,” he knew. Rollins shifted his gaze to hers. “My whole op down here is a god damn soup sandwich now. No wonder my asset was late. …He’s probably already skipped town.”

“I don’t make the decisions,” she glared back. “I just pull the trigger.”

“Hmph,” Jack frowned. “Pretty fuckin’ convenient for you.”

“Tell ya what,” she began, more than a little irritated by her circumstances and his tone, “when I get home, I’ll send you a copy of the transcript where I say ‘no go’ and you can read the part right after that where I get overridden.” She wasn’t oblivious to the inconvenience or burden she was, but she wasn’t going to take the blame, even if she was addressing a superior officer. “ _Then_ you can call me an asshole.”

Rollins scoffed, giving a shake of his head for the interruption of his objective. If he was lucky, his contact would make a drop to arrange another meeting. If not, three weeks of finessing by Clandestine Services would be down the drain and they’d have to find another avenue to secure their informant.

He kept his eyes on the street, watching for any indication of the police or local army on Allison's trail. His guys downstairs would be doing the same. Jack took a quick glance at Addams on the couch, his jaw shifting to try and temper his resentment of her insubordinate tone, remembering she was injured and had never been willfully disrespectful to him before. Allison was a good soldier. She was ideal for the Horsemen; highly skilled, efficient, smart, and had good instincts. If she was overridden, it wasn’t her fault. He knew that. But it did nothing to curb his frustration with their current situation.

There was a knock at the door and Rollins gestured for Addams to stay were she was and be silent. With one hand on the gun holstered in the back of his waistband, Jack put a hand on the deadbolt and asked who it was. At the American accented answer, “Room Service”, he opened the door and stepped aside to let one of his partners in. The man, dressed in the hotel’s shortsleeve uniform, nodded once toward Allison. She nodded back, noting the sweat on his brow from apparently hustling up to the room with their requested supplies. He handed over a pile of towels to Jack, telling him, “Suture kit’s inside with a couple syringes of saline and some gauze, from Dennison’s go bag. It’s all we have.”

Jack nodded his understanding, noting, “I’m surprised you came up with that much.”

Handing Rollins a slightly tarnished ice bucket with a half empty fifth of whiskey sticking out, the operative apologized to Allison, saying, “This is gonna suck.”

“I was just thinking the same thing,” she said, trying her best to smile.

“We’re still holding posts. We’ll re-deploy to set a perimeter downstairs for security,” he told them both, letting himself out after a nod of approval from Rollins.

Jack put a handful of ice in a towel for Allison. “Here,” he offered, passing off the ice and holding out the whiskey bottle next. “Numb up. There’s no lidocaine or anything else for you. Not in this hell hole anyway…”

Less than enthused at what was coming, Allison rolled her eyes, taking the towel of ice first to hold in place of the blood-soaked scarf above her hip. “God dammit,” she quietly complained.

This was not how she expected her day to go. Her mission should have been aborted. For whatever reason, the security around her target had changed today. She couldn’t say for sure if somehow he had been tipped off to the plot against him, or if it was just paranoid coincidence. Either way, her real-time assessment, and gut, said to abandon the mission. But it had been hundreds of man hours to get this close to the murderous piece of shit and apparently the powers that be didn’t think they’d get another chance soon enough. And now, here she was, bleeding in a hotel room and at the mercy of the Division’s Lt. Commander, whose operation her assignment had ruined and wasn’t necessarily known for his kindness, or tolerance of fucking up.

Jack gave her some time, leaving her to ice her side and drink, before he went into the bathroom to wash up. When he came back out, he grabbed the small stack of towels from where he’d set them down before. Rollins walked around the end of the couch, sitting on the edge of the coffee table and directing her to, “Lay down.”

Allison took another drink, following it with a deep inhale through her nose. She slowly shifted on the couch, turning to stretch along the cushions and keeping her left side to Rollins. Beside her, Jack pulled open the suture kit, setting it aside as he pulled on the pair of latex gloves from the package. He refolded a towel from the pile, tucking it in under her side.

“You any good with a needle?” she warily asked, trying to smile and play off her nervousness.

“Been awhile since I did my own sewing,” Jack admitted. Her eyes darted over, giving him a distrustful look for his attempt at humor. With a smirk, he tucked in another towel and assured her, “It’ll be fine. Just hold still.”

“Easy for you to say…” she muttered, as Rollins unwrapped the first of the pair of saline filled syringes he had.

Jack took the makeshift ice pack from her, looking for any debris in the wound. She nodded, when he asked if she was ready. Rollins frowned, watching her tense and hearing the sharp inhale, as he began to carefully irrigate her wound. She obviously wasn’t numb enough, but there was nothing to do. The wound had to be closed.

“I’ll try to make this quick,” he promised.

Allison closed her eyes, her jaw set a little forward, like she was waiting to take a hit. She concentrated on relaxing her forehead and on her breathing. Through the thin gloves, his fingertips were warm on her iced skin. It gave her a nauseated feeling, when he pushed and held the torn skin to stitch. She couldn’t help the small flinch, when he first stuck the needle in, but he was patient, waiting for her to relax again before he continued.

Several, literally painfully slow minutes later, Rollins announced he was finished. He took some of the melting ice from the towel beside him on the coffee table, using it to clean around her stitches. He dabbed her side dry, with a clean corner of one of the towels, wiping away as much blood as he could. Jack put a dressing on her wound, before gathering up the soiled linens and standing up again. He left her the last clean towel to put beneath her on the couch, just in case. Jack dropped the bloodstained linens in the garbage can in the bathroom, along with his gloves and what was left of the suture kit. His team would dispose of the evidence later.

Coming back into the living area of the suite, Allison was just inching up to sit again. She looked exhausted, and a little pale, as she did so. Jack looked himself over, checking to make sure he didn’t have any blood on him. He tipped his head toward the room behind him, telling her, “Bed’s through there.”

She flashed him a polite smile, declining, “No. Couch is fine. You’ve done plenty already.”

“And then _I’m_ the asshole,” he pointed out, “letting the gunshot victim sleep on the couch. I got enough problems tonight.”

Allison snorted. “Well, when you put it that way... Okay.”

She groaned, pushing herself up to stand. Jack made a couple long strides to move to her side, taking her hand in his to steady her on her feet, when she swayed into her first step.

“I’m okay,” she nodded, despite the lightheadedness she felt. She took back her hand and edged her way around the coffee table, stopping to pick up the bottle of whiskey. “You know,” she began, “it’s actually counterproductive for you, giving me the bed.”

“How’s that?” he wondered, pocketing his hands, as he watched her slowly walk into the adjoining bedroom.

“Because,” she grinned, pausing with her hand on the doorway for balance, “you’ve done such a good job convincing everyone in the Division that you really are an asshole, people’ll be shocked to hear you were a nice guy, Commander.”

He smirked, snuffling a laugh and confident when he said, “No one’ll believe you, anyway. I’ll be fine.”

Allison shut the door between the two rooms. She took a look over the bedroom. Across the foot of the bed, some of Rollins’ things were laid out. She folded the worn t-shirt and tucked it back into the backpack it was laying next to. She put the bag in the chair off to the side of the room and caught a look at herself in the mirror above the chest of drawers. If the tear in the side of her shirt wasn’t bad enough, the large blood stain on the white linen was a dead giveaway that she was who the local authorities were looking for.

She sighed and carefully peeled her shirt off overhead, wincing at the stinging pain from her side as she raised her arms. Outside, sirens screamed by, briefly overpowering the dulled sounds of the music from the patio of the hotel bar a few floors below. Allison eyed the gauze covering her wound, checking to see if it was still bleeding, before she went back to the door. Holding her shirt in front of her, she opened and peeked her head around the side of the door. Rollins was back by the window again, his arms crossed and shoulder leaned into the wall, looking to the street below.

“One more thing?” she hesitated. Jack looked up, raising a brow to say he was listening, and she went on. “Don’t mean to abuse the hospitality, but if there’s anyway to get some clothes up here in the morning that weren’t stained with blood, it’d be a little less suspicious. I’d really appreciate it.”

Jack smirked, with an understanding nod. “We’ll come up with something,” he assured her, catching sight of the bra strap and bare skin on the point of her shoulder just past the edge of the door. “In the meantime, there’s a clean shirt in the dresser. If you could try not to bleed all over it, I’d really appreciate it.”

Allison’s lips puckered into a tight smile. “Yes, Sir,” she said, sticking her hand out around the door to give a thumbs up.

She shut the door again and found the shirt in a dresser drawer. She paused for a moment, debating putting the shirt on. Allison didn’t want to ruin it, if her stitches bled while she was sleeping. But then again, if they had to make a quick exit, it was better than having to make a run for it half-naked. She gingerly pulled the shirt on and stepped out of her shorts. The side of her waistband was trimmed in drying blood, but overall the shorts had faired pretty well. Allison put aside her clothes and took a couple long pulls off the bottle of whiskey, before setting it down on the nightstand.

Allison pulled back the sheets and eased into bed. She groaned through the discomfort of reaching over to turn off the lamp and settled down into the mattress. Listening to the quiet music carried up from the bar, Allison stared at the ceiling. Now that she was finally still, fatigue was catching up with her. Letting out a tired sigh, Allison carefully turned over onto her right side, nuzzling her face into the soft pillow and closing her eyes. Relaxing again, she caught a whiff of what she guessed was Rollins’ aftershave or cologne on the pillow. She couldn’t name it, even after a second sniff in curiosity to try. There was something oddly comforting about it, knowing it meant she wasn’t alone anymore and that he and his team would get her out in the morning.


	2. Chapter 2

April 2011

She opened her eyes to the sound of gunfire. Not close enough to startle her awake, but near enough to know for sure that it wasn’t fireworks in the street. Allison raised herself up on her elbow to listen, her breath hitching at the pain that stabbed in her side with the movement.

“It’s alright,” he quietly told her, hoping it was the disturbance outside and not him that had woken her. “It’s not coming this way.”

Allison looked back over her shoulder to see Rollins in the darkened room. Silhouetted by the soft light from the street lamps below, he was looking out the window. Allison slowly shifted to her back to see him more easily, asking, “What is it?”

“Seems someone killed the Jackal,” he dryly noted, moving the gauzy curtain aside for a moment and a clear view. “People took to the streets about an hour ago.” He had moved into the bedroom to keep a better eye on the front of the hotel, careful not to wake her. “Looting, arson. Local police can’t keep it together anymore.” Jack let the curtain fall closed again, turning his gaze to her. “Seems you started a revolution.”

“That was the plan,” she shrugged, and promptly winced in regret for the pain it caused. Allison missed the adrenaline she’d burned through earlier in the day that had held off most of her discomfort. She’d pay money for some of that high, right now. Under her breath, she cursed, “Fuck.”

“A couple of my guys went out,” Rollins told her, giving his attention back to his watch, “to find something to take care of that for you.”

“Tell me you’re kidding,” she frowned, pressing a hand to her side while she tried to take a deep breath.

“They’ll use the riot as cover,” he said, to assuage her concern, confident in his teammates. “I need you to be able to move, in the morning.”

“I’d settle just to be able to breath, right now,” she grumbled.

Jack smirked, although he doubted she could see him well enough to notice. It wasn’t that he was unsympathetic to her situation. Rollins actually admired how well she was dealing with it. A graze like hers and fresh stitches were bad enough. The wound in a place that couldn’t help but move in some way every single time she moved, and without pain killers, would be unbearable to just about anyone. But he knew her tenacity and strength from when he had trained her as a recruit almost two years ago and knew she’d find a way to manage.

There wasn’t any hesitation from his men, when Jack ordered a pair of them to go out and rip off the nearest pharmacy for a short list of supplies the medical staff in the Triskelion advised would help Allison with the pain and hopefully hold off any infection until they could properly treat her. The way the city was falling apart, when the sun came up they would have to move quickly. There was a short debate about leaving in the middle of the night, but hotel staff had made a round of the rooms to tell the guests to stay inside, for their own safety. Leaving before dawn would draw suspicions and, with Addams wounded, they didn’t need the extra attention. The decision was made to try and get her something for the pain, let her rest as long as they could, and move out the first chance they saw.

“They should be back soon,” he assured her.

It was quiet for a few minutes. Jack stood watch and Allison sat still, listening to the sporadic gunfire and distant yelling in the streets. From the corner of her eye she spotted what was left of the whiskey and gingerly stretched out to take up the nearly empty bottle. She helped herself to a long drink, her face pinching as much for the burn of the liquor as for the stinging sensation in her side from moving.

“Might as well finish that up,” Rollins suggested, without shifting his attention from the window. “It’ll help you sleep.”

Swallowing another drink, Allison snorted. “That trick work on the other girls you’ve had in your bed?” she quipped, before she realized who exactly she’d made the remark to. Allison fell in to an instant apology. “Sorry, Sir.” Jack grinned, managing to hold his laughter in his chest, as she hurriedly spoke. “I didn’t mean to imply- I mean-“

“At ease, Lieutenant,” he chuckled, with a sweep of his head.

“Sorry,” Allison quietly repeated, shaking her head. “The filter between my mouth and brain seems to be broken.”

“It’s late,” he excused her, his eyes tracking a group of men walking down the middle of the empty street below. “You’re injured. I think after the day you’ve had, we can let that one slide.”

“Thank you, Sir,” Allison meekly replied.

“But just for the record,” he began, giving her a quick glance and a mischievous grin, “chloroform works faster.”

Allison blinked, her mouth falling to an open smile. A cough of a disbelieving laugh at what she’d just heard made her lean over on her side in pain and she folded an arm across her middle to steady herself, begging through a grimace, “Please, don't make me laugh.”

“Sorry,” he said, and he meant it.

Jack’s gaze had shot over to her when he saw her move in his periphery. He eyed her carefully, waiting to see that she relaxed. It took a long moment, but Addams recovered, shaking her head with a grin of amusement that was slow to dissolve, in spite of how she must be feeling. He breathed a little deeper, relieved to see her look at least somewhat comfortable again.

“You okay?” Jack checked, still keeping an eye on her.

Allison pressed her lips together and closed her eyes, nodding. She hummed her affirmative reply, as she tipped her head back into the pillow and took a slow, deep breath.

“Thank you,” she quietly offered, a long minute later.

Rollins shifted his weight to get a better view down the street. “What for?” he distractedly asked.

“For this,” she said. If her eyes had been open, Allison would have seen him looking at her. “You and your guys, taking me in like this. This is your bed. You should be sleeping in it, not staying up all night staring out the window.”

A kind smile tugged back the corner of his mouth, watching her. “It’s no trouble.”

Allison shook her head, eyes still closed and hoping for sleep again. “None of this was my idea,” she told him. “I didn’t know you guys were even here. I know I fucked up whatever your op was.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Jack told her, shifting his gaze outside again. “You’re our mission now. Get some rest. It’s gonna be a rough morning.”

...

The sun streaking across her face woke her.

Jack’s team had come back with a small stash of supplies lifted from a local pharmacy, in the middle of the night. They hooked her up with drugs for the pain and, by a check of the clock by the bed, she had slept well for several hours. She still moved gingerly, mindful of every pull and twist she made to sit up and get out of bed. Allison groaned and rolled her eyes at seeing her wound had seeped overnight, dampening and staining a spot on the side of Rollins’ borrowed shirt.

Left on the chest of drawers was a fresh change of clothes for Allison that was part of the night’s haul, along with gauze and other items to tend to her wound. Taking a handful of supplies with her to the bathroom, Allison carefully cleaned and redressed her stitches. She put on her new clothes and went out to the living room of the suite.

Slumped in the end of the couch, Rollins’ forehead rested into his upturned hand with his shod foot kicked up on the coffee table and eyes closed as he breathed softly. One of his guys was asleep in the armchair with his own feet stretched out on the table. At the dining table, another was pouring a cup of coffee, while the fourth man stood looking out the window eating from a plate of food in his hand.

“’Morning,” the man keeping watch said.

Allison nodded, with a grin. “Good morning,” she quietly replied, trying not to disturb the men sleeping. Their faces weren’t unfamiliar, but it had been a while. She knew one other man in the room and thought she’d heard the names of the others the night before and hoped, “Cephas, right?”

He nodded, smiling and speaking around the food in his mouth, “Right.” He pointed with his fork around the room, reminding her of Dennison in the chair and Waterson at the table. “Everybody knows the Commander,” he said of Rollins.

“Coffee?” Waterson offered, with a small lift of the carafe her way. Allison nodded, crossing the room to meet him. “Most of the staff fled, last night. Breakfast was hard to come by, but we scraped this together,” he motioned at the hodgepodge of foods on the table. “Help yourself.”

“Don't really feel like eating,” she admitted, reluctantly picking up a piece of toast he put in front of her.

“You should eat,” Cephas encouraged. “It’ll help.”

“You’re on some strong shit,” Waterson agreed.

Allison nodded, chewing on a corner of toast. She knew they were right. She just had to force herself to do it. Waterson slid a mug of coffee across the table to her, as she slowly took a seat. Cephas walked over, picking up a medicine bottle from the empty end of the couch to hand to her, telling her she was probably due for another dose.

“Eat a little something, first, though,” he suggested. “It’ll help keep your stomach settled.”

She smiled, quipping, “I don’t care what anyone says about Delta. You guys are alright.”

“Shhh,” Cephas winked. “Don’t tell anybody.”

“So, what exactly happened yesterday?” Waterson asked.

“Half the city‘s on fire,” Cephas noted, picking up a near empty mug from the table to take back to the window.

“Literally,” Waterson seconded.

“Leave her alone,” Jack said, from the couch, his eyes still shut.

“Just curious,” Waterson innocently shrugged, and Allison’s thin grin said she didn’t mind the question.

Dennison slowly sat up in his chair, his booted feet making a dull thud on the rug as they fell off the table. “My god,” he grumbled, rubbing his palms in his eyes, “you girls make too much noise.”

“Coffee,” Jack said, still motionless on the couch.

“We’re out,” Cephas noted.

Without a word, Jack raised his free hand and turned up his open palm. “Aw, man,” Waterson complained, getting up from his seat at the table to walk over and surrender the last half of his cup of coffee to Rollins’ waiting hand. Allison snickered behind the side of her hand, chewing her toast. Only after he’d taken a sip did the Commander sit up.

“Time?” Jack questioned, ahead of another drink of his commandeered coffee.

“Oh-643,” Dennison answered, checking his watch.

“Streets are still pretty calm,” Cephas added, while Jack did the math to figure he’d had about an hour and a half of sleep.

Dennison looked up to Allison. “You good to go?”

“I’m fine,” she told him.

“Today’s not the day to be proud,” Jack warned her. “If you need time, say so.”

“Good to go, Sir,” she insisted, confident she could push through and motivated to just get home.

Rollins nodded, swallowing the last of his drink. “Wake up the guys in the TOC,” he directed. “Tell them to muster Echo to the rally point, and get her a gun. We leave in 15 minutes.”

...

On the flight home, Allison was checked over by Donovan, the medic from her team. Her extraction team had fallen back to their secondary rally point to wait for the operators from Delta to safely move Addams out of the city for them. Donovan was satisfied with what he saw of her wound. The stitches were obviously done by an unpracticed hand, he’d noted, but, all things considered, he said the work was done well enough. He saw no need to fuss with the wound, unless infection took.

Rollins and some of his team had stolen a couple cars to get them outside the city limits to meet with the members of Echo standing by with a Quinjet to get Allison home. The Delta operators didn’t take the offered ride back to the States. Instead, they went back into town to try and locate the CS asset they had abandoned their meet with to secure Addams.

Jack’s men were right. Half the city was on fire, from the chaos overnight. She admired their determination to go back into that disaster and finish their work. Slouched comfortably in her seat on the jet, she doubted her “thank you” was enough to convey her gratitude for sheltering her and keeping her safe.

“The fuck was that?” Jack complained, walking up to Rumlow at the front of the briefing room. “Tell me you’re not the asshole that gave her that assignment.”

Brock quietly chuckled, a grin pulling back the corner of his mouth, as he gathered his paperwork together. “I am the asshole,” he confirmed. “I give the Horsemen all of their assignments. You know that.” He lifted his gaze from his work to look Jack in the eye, his expression sobering, and noted, “But I did _not_ override her.”

“Then who the fuck did?” he practically demanded.

“Pierce.”

It only took the one word answer to piss him off all over again. “What the hell was he thinking?” he growled. “Does he have any idea what he did?”

“What’d he do, huh?” Brock tiredly cocked his head.

“He almost ruined my op,” Rollins firmly reminded the Commander. “And Addams? She’d probably be dead or captured, if she hadn’t made it to us when she did. He put my guys in danger, having to take care of her and get her out to her team. We weren’t kitted out for that shit. We’re lucky we pulled that off and found our guy for CS again.”

“You gonna be the one to tell ‘im?” he dared, quirking up a brow. Jack huffed, sending a scowl back to Brock. “Look,” Rumlow began, “no matter what he _almost_ did by ordering her mission to continue, the facts are, she’s home and you both did your jobs. He doesn’t give a damn about the what-if’s and almosts. All he cares about are results.” Brock stepped down from the podium. “He got results.” He gave Jack a clap on the arm. “You did good, big guy.”

“Yeah,” Jack scoffed. “Thanks a lot.”

Rumlow chuckled, shaking his head, as they headed back up the aisle in the center of the briefing room. “How is Addams, by the way?” The question threw Jack for a second, a wrinkle of confusion coming to his brow knowing she had already been stateside for two days, as he pulled open the door and Brock added, “Haven’t seen her in awhile. She still hot?”

Jack’s shoulders shook with a suppressed laugh, as they turned into the hallway. He grinned, nodding, “Yeah. She’s still hot.” 


	3. Chapter 3

Aug 2011

"As some of you more astute morons may have noticed," Rumlow continued, shuffling his paperwork back into its folder, "we have a few new faces in the room this morning. Most of you should recognize them.

“With the Director's order to disband Echo Team, Delta will be adopting seven of the strays who opted not to take an assignment outside of STRIKE,” he explained. “The remainder of the Echo operators will be dispersed among the other STRIKE teams. Three of those orphans are in this room today and will be lucky enough to be operating with this squad from now on." There was a smattering of halfhearted and purposefully unenthusiastic applause around the room. "Rest assured, I only allowed the best of what's left of Echo to join our illustrious ranks."

There was a rumbling of cocksure approval of the Commander's slight. Rumlow grinned, gesturing a hand out to the room, ordering, "Pop tall, when I introduce you. Please welcome 2nd Lt. Allison Addams, Staff Sgt. Eric Mickelson, and Master Sgt. Brian Strickland."

The three new members of STRIKE Team Delta stood, as directed. They were greeted with a reserved, albeit genuine this time, round of applause. They took their seats, as the Commander concluded, "You’ve all been advised on the effects this makes to chain of command and seniority. I expect you all to assist our brothers and sister with getting acclimated to the squad and their new surroundings. And I'll advise you to bear in mind what Echo was for 23 years. Vis-à-vis, show them some respect, you animals. These aren't FNG's for you to play with. Understood?"

The room replied with a confident and loud, "hooah" and Rumlow nodded his approval. "Fire Team leaders, in my office in 10. The rest of you are dismissed until 0800hrs for the PT weigh in. That's all, gentlemen. Thank you. Thank you, gentlemen. That's all." He closed the padfolio in front of him, realizing, with a tip of his head her way, "And, apparently, lady, now, too."

Addams gave a quick thumb up to say she wasn't offended. A few chuckles were heard around the room at Rumlow's expense for the oversight. The room came to life, as most of the operators stood to welcome and introduce themselves to the new additions in the room. Rollins kept his seat, sizing up the adopted officers and their interactions with his teammates. The new operators seemed confident, as they should be. He didn't have any doubts about their abilities, but Jack was wary about their personalities upsetting the balance of his squad, and the modifications made to the rank structure to accommodate their placement within the team.

The restructuring of the Division rubbed a lot of people wrong. Fury was preoccupied with his new toys. After the Battle of New York, his Avengers team was seen as the solution to the world's problems. In repsonse, Fury had to justify costs and the value of his former favorites, STRIKE. As a result, SHIELD no longer saw a need for maintaining five SpecOps teams in the Division. Echo was a hard cut to make, but it was the most logical move.

Echo ran missions off of the other coast, based out of what was affectionately called “the Citadel” by the operators who trained and worked at Pacific Outpost, the offshore SHIELD facility modeled after the Raft. It made sense to have all of the STRIKE team operations centralized in the Triskelion. Even savings from fuel costs for travel to SHIELD training facilities for mandatory exercises all teams attended around the DC area was a factor in the decision. They were also the youngest team in the Division, being operational for several years less than the other four teams' 30-plus years of service. Echo was disbanded and the members given the option to be reassigned to another team and relocate their lives to DC, or take another assignment within SHIELD that kept them in California. 

Only time would tell if, or how badly, the loss of Echo would hurt the Division, and SHIELD and the world at large. They were elite, by design. If STRIKE was the spear of SHIELD, Echo was the razor sharp point. Echo Team operated in the most grueling conditions, in the most violent places, and policed the baddest of the bad. Echo was the next level. Fielding the toughest ops and assignments and the outsourced work of other gorvernments, they did the dirty work SHIELD didn't talk about out loud and they had a zero failure rating. They operated with a moral flexibility that would keep the public up at night, if they knew Echo even existed. Echo made the impossible happen. They were legend. And Jack could respect them for everything they accomplished in their team's 23 year history.

He wouldn't deny that, at one point, he’d been a little disappointed Echo hadn't had an open slot on the team during his career with STRIKE that he could have transferred in to. By the time an opening came available, he was already entrenched in the command structure of the Division. He couldn’t make the transition and still keep his rank. He may have taken the pass on the transfer, but he still resented Fury's decision to dismantle Echo. On the other hand, he saw the merit of having some of the world's best operators joining his team's roster. The only thing he didn't like was the math.

Simple arithmetic told him there were an even number of men and women to be added to the Alpha through Delta rosters, 28 to be precise, and therefore should be an equal number of operators being parted out to the remaining teams and squads. They'd been told as much, last month when the memo went out acknowledging the decision to retire Echo. But here in front of them stood only three operators. Jack was curious about what happened to the fourth.

Jack bypassed the welcome wagon, walking up to the podium at the front of the room to address the Commander. Rumlow acknowledged his arrival with a nod, while he was shutting down the tech in the room. Rollins and Rumlow had been fast friends, since Jack was recruited by HYDRA and assigned to STRIKE. Jack had watched him quickly rise with his ambitions through the ranks. For every new position Brock accepted, Jack claimed the one left behind him. Now, as the youngest Divison Commander STRIKE had ever had, Jack was serving as his second in command.

"What can I do for you?" Rumlow offered, finishing his work and folding his arms to lean onto the podium and look down at Jack.

"We missing somebody?" he wondered. "Last they told us, we should have been expecting four new operators for 2nd Squad. Where’s Cleary?"

"Yeah, about that..." Brock carefully said, straightening up from his lean. "I reassigned ‘im to Alpha, this morning. Let's get through this Fire Team meeting and then we'll talk."

"I don't think I like the sound of that," Jack warily told him.

"Never too early in the day to start drinking," the Commander wryly mused, gathering his things and stepping around the podium.

Jack rolled his eyes, as he turned to fall in behind Brock and follow him out of the briefing room, directly past their teammates glad-handing the new arrivals. He already knew the trio, anyway. As a master instructor for the Division, Rollins had trained and mentored most of the operators to join STRIKE in the last 8 years. He’d run the recruit class that Addams, Mick, and Strickland had competed in and seen them plenty of times for Division war games and other regular training. He'd shake hands with the “new guys” and officially welcome them later.

“This isn’t a decision I made,” Rumlow gruffly noted.

“How fuckin’ stupid are they?” Jack balked.

“If they’re wrong, there might not be a scale to measure the extent of their stupidity,” Brock dryly figured.

He shook his head. “Unbelievable,” Jack muttered.

Brock dropped his pen on his desk and sat deep into the back of his chair. “On the other hand,” he tipped his head, in consideration, “I put your girlfriend on the team.”

A wrinkle came to Rollins’ brow, as he gave Brock a curious look, confused by the sudden change in topic. “What?”

Rumlow smirked, mischievously. “Addams.”

“The fuck you talkin’ about? My girlfriend,” he cocked his head, disapprovingly.

Brock chuckled, flipping a hand at him. “Cah’mon,” he playfully groaned. “I remember the shit you said about her.”

Jack scoffed, slouching comfortably in his chair, and flipped the Commander off. “I never did anything, and you know it,” he groaned. “And all I said was, she’s too pretty for a job like this. We’ve said that about all of ‘em.”

”Riiight,” Rumlow smirked.

To be fair, Rollins had been busted by Rumlow for giving Addams a little bit of a longer look than the other operators, once or twice...or more, when she was around. But Brock didn’t blame him. They both agreed, Allison was beautiful. After she’d succesfully completed the Gaunlet and earned a place on Echo, Jack had become interested in her for more than just her pretty face. He was regularly impressed with how she excelled in all the competencies of the position, and not at all surprised when she started climbing the ranks and her stats made her a candidate for the Horsemen, in record time. He was proud to see her skills develop as a recruit under his tutelage and had no trouble giving her the respect she deserved. The few times she’d been in more casual settings, like grabbing drinks with members of the other teams when Echo was in town, she had a good sense of humor and quick wit, too.

But a couple beers too deep into a night at Barny’s a year ago gave Jack away. He barely remembered how she even came up in the conversation, but god damn if he didn’t remember the ‘oh, shit’ moment when he realized what he’d said.

Brock had laughed, telling him about Addams kicking the chair out from under Mickelson when he’d gone to sit down. Echo was in town for the week for training. It was bad timing that it was April Fools Day. It was a poorly thought out decision, when Mick salted Allison’s chocolate cake in the cafeteria at lunch when she wasn’t looking. It was a hell of a funny story, the way Rumlow described Mickelson flattened out on the floor and Addams standing over him. And it spelled disaster for Jack.

It was seared into his memory. The absolute disbelief of Rumlow’s “ _Excuse_ _me_...” and stare, after Jack had said, “She can put me on my back, any day.” There was no recovering. And the fiendish grin that slowly curled up the corners of Brock’s mouth told Jack he’d never live it down, either. Brock practically browbeat Jack that night, until he begrudgingly confessed his long standing infatuation with Allison.

“Still,” Brock shrugged, his Cheshire Cat grin firmly in place, “you could say ‘thank you’.”

“For what?” Rollins snorted.

“Improving the view.”

Rollins cracked a smile, admitting, “That you did.”

“Besides that,” Brock went on, “I got us two of the three remaining Horsemen. It don’t get much better than that.”

Jack nodded his approval. “True.” His smile slipped, considering, “But this Rogers situation...”

Rumlow’s own amusement, and pride in his accomplishment, disappeared from his expression. “Yeah,” he frowned. “We’ll be keeping a close eye on that.” He pointed to a folder on his desk and Jack took the cue to lean forward and take it. “He reports tomorrow. Give him the tour, get him squared away with the Quartermaster, etcetera. I’ve got to be over on the Hill for a few hours, in the morning. I wanna know what you think, when I get back tomorrow afternoon.”

“No problem,” Rollins nodded, resting the folder in his hand on his leg.

“Medical has a battery of shit they want to run him through over the next few days,” he added. “I want you on hand for those, too. See what exactly we’re up against.” Jack nodded again, skimming over the file as he listened. “I wanna know this guy’s weakness, if he gives us any problems down the road.” 

“Copy that,” Jack agreed, closing the folder for later.

“Speaking of problems,” Brock added. “Don’t make me regret picking up Addams for Delta.”

“That won’t be a problem, either,” Jack assured him. He jerked his thumb over his shoulder toward the door to reference Allison, saying, “D’you see that rock on her finger?”

“Is that your dealbreaker?” Rumlow quirked up an amused brow.

“Never mess with another man’s woman,” he confidently told him.

...

Rollins left the Commander's office, with a sweep of his head. He couldn't shake the feeling that the decision to place Capt. Rogers on a STRIKE Team was anything less than insane. That HYDRA Command decided to put him on a team made entirely of HYDRA deep cover personnel was ludacris. But Jack was at the mercy of orders, and it wasn't his place to argue. Not that anyone would listen, if he did.

Jack stopped by his office and changed into his PT gear. He caught up to the rest of his squad in the gym for the quartly weigh in. While the others shuffled along in a line to the scale, Jack walked over to the squad's medic overseeing the assessment. He heard how everyone seemed to be making weight for their stats and Jack asked for his thoughts on the new operators.

“They look good," Whitfield told him, glancing down at the clipboard in his hand. "All three came in healthy. Nobody's too tore up or got too many miles on them. You've probably got several good years still to get out of them."

“That's what we like to hear," Jack nodded, giving the line a once over.

“We'll finish the weigh in and should be ready to head out to the PT course, in a few minutes," he figured.

“Outstanding," Rollins approved, giving his watch a quick look for the time.

Jack was the last one on the scale, weighing in at a solid 212 pounds. His brow wagged up in a kind of shrug, knowing that somewhere in the months since the last PT assessment he'd dropped 4 pounds. He wasn't sure from where or how. He hadn't noticed a loss anywhere in his performance. He wrote it off as needing to watch his diet a little more closely for awhile, and maybe backing off the outdoor cardio while the unusually hot summer was hanging around.

Rumlow made it in to get weighed, just as Rollins had ordered the troops to head out to the PT grounds in Virginia. The two senior officers drove out together, talking about Whitfield's succinct approval of the new team members and their optimism that the transfers would work well with the current squad. Rumlow had put a lot of consideration into who he selected for the assignment to Delta, looking through everything from personnel records to psych assessments to see who would be a good fit. The Commander was confident he had the best.

At the training facility in Virginia, 2nd Squad met up with their 1st Squad counterparts. Despite heading up the Division, the COs of Delta were still operational, and Jack and Brock still ran through every qualifiacton their subordinates did. They split duties, one keeping scores and times while the other ran through their tests. After they had made their run throughs of the courses, they kept notes together, discussing the performances they recorded for everyone else. They paid particular attention to the new operators and were pleased with what they saw.

“I don’t see any problems,” Jack noted. “We just have to see how they all get along.”

“I’m not worried about it,” Rumlow swept his head. “Most of them have met each other before, some more than a few times. They’ll come together just fine.”

Rollins nodded, his eyes following Addams from behind the polished lenses of his sunglasses. “We should run them through the teams confidence courses,” he reasoned, “while we’re out here. Give them a chance to start working together.”

“Good idea,” Brock agreed. He smacked the clipboard in his hand into Jack’s arm. “But I need you to watch all the guys, Jack, not just Addams.”

“Ohhkay. Here we go,” Jack dryly nodded, folding his arms with a humoring grin. “Go ahead. Get it out of your system.”

Rollins hadn’t seen Addams in months. Before Echo was disbanded, there hadn’t been a reason to have them in DC, for some time. But he hadn't forgetten the first time he caught her smile. Seeing her ID photo among the hundred-plus applicants for the vacancies on Echo Team two years ago, Jack had been a little taken by her good looks. Seeing her in person, that first morning formation for her recruit class, he was struck thinking the photo didn’t do her justice. Unfortunately, as the Lt. Commander of the Division, Jack knew nothing would ever come of the attraction. Especially when she successfully completed the candidate program and earned a place in the Division.

There was a small part of him that was disappointed Addams made it through the Gaunlet and got the commission to Echo. If she hadn’t, she would have stayed in DC, gone back to her assignment as a HumInt Officer in Clandestine Services, and maybe he could have asked her out for a cup of coffee or a drink. He could easily admit, Addams had a hell of a lot of potential as an operator. But it didn’t stop him muttering a curse at the time about fraternization regulations and rank.

“Probably a good thing she came with that ring.” Brock supposed.

“Probably,” Jack chuckled. He shrugged, figuring, “Eh, it’s just something new around here. The novelty’ll wear off.”

“Let’s hope so,” Rumlow laughed. “You sure know how to pick ‘em,” he shook his head. Brock inclined his head toward the next course over, saying, “Let’s get these guys started.”


	4. Chapter 4

Aug 2011

“So, what’d you think?”

Jack finished the pull off his beer, simply dropping and shaking his head as his answer.

Rumlow chuckled, giving a sweep of his head. “Disappointing, isn’t it? I really thought I’d hate him.”

Rollins snuffled a laugh, picking up his burger again. “I know,” he nodded, ahead of a bite.

Steve Rogers had reported for duty three days ago. The Commander and his lieutenant kept a close eye on him, as he went through assessments and work ups from the Medical staff to get his records in compliance with SHIELD’s requirements. They walked him through introductions to his teammates and got him familiarized with his new surroundings. In the process, they’d realized Rogers was every bit the all American, stand up guy they figured he’d be. Strangely enough, neither Rumlow or Rollins minded.

Capt. Rogers and the Howling Commandos had written doctrine, even if they didn’t know it. The tactics they pioneered fighting HYDRA in the War were still being taught in military academies and served as the foundations of some maneuvers practiced by elite SpecOps groups around the world. Brock and Jack had always had a respect for that in their careers. Seeing the footage and reading the AAR for the Battle of New York, they both had shrugged, admitting maybe “the old man” still had something to offer. 

“I’m not saying this whole thing isn’t still a fucking bad idea,” Jack excused, “but I don’t think this is going to be as hard as we thought it might be.”

Rumlow nodded, looking back from checking the score of the Nationals game on the TV behind the bar at Barny’s. “They fuckin’ lost,” he frowned.

“So much for the postseason,” Jack grumbled. 

“Bums,” Brock complained, going back to his dinner.

“I saw something interesting in the cafeteria, yesterday,” Rollins offered, and Rumlow cocked up a brow to say he was listening as he chewed. “I saw Addams having lunch with Rogers.”

“Oh, yeah?” he mused, wrinkling his brow in thought, as he swallowed his food. “That might be something useful.”

Jack chuckled, quipping, “What, you wanna run a honeypot on him?”

“I thought you were at the top of the wait list for her,” Rumlow smirked.

“Dick,” he called him, shaking his head.

Brock mischievously chuckled, before explaining, “No. I mean, he might be more inclined to trust her, being a woman. She might be a better source of intel than the bugs in his apartment for keeping tabs on him.”

Jack couldn’t argue. The idea had merit. Allison was approachable. She was well liked and well known inside and out of the Division. Attaching someone like her to Rogers would help ease his transition into working with SHIELD and no doubt make him feel more comfortable, having someone to talk to. If she could get close, she would be able to spot and address any concerns or suspicions he may develop about is new coworkers, before it was too late.

“That might work,” Rollins admitted.

“Keep an eye on it,” Rumlow told him. “If it looks like it’s going somewhere, talk to Addams about it. See if it’s something we can use.”

Aug 2011

“There they are.”

“Hi, Dad,” Allison smiled, giving him a quick hug on the way in. She stood their dripping umbrella in the stand by the door. “Sorry, we’re late. Got caught behind an accident on the way over.”

“This rain is terrible,” Kurt, Allison’s fiancé, chimed in.

“That’s alright,” he assured them, giving Kurt a welcoming handshake and smile. He pushed the door shut, waving them on. “Come in. Dinner’s ready.”

“Smells delicious,” Kurt noted, following Allison to the dining room.

Taking a seat at the table across from Kurt, Allison agreed. She scooted her chair up to the table, gladly accepting the offer of a glass of wine. Coming home was always a little nerve wracking, since her mother died a few years ago. Allison’s relationship with her father had always been somewhat tense. It was her mother that kept them close and played peacekeeper. It wasn’t that Allison didn’t try. In fact, sometimes, Allison thought she was the only one who really did.

Allison always tried to please her father and make him proud. All she really wanted was his approval, but the man wasn’t much for affection. Or, if he was, he wasn’t for showing it to her. In hindsight, she saw he tried to be a good father. He made all the appearances at school activities and sports that he could. She never wanted for anything and couldn’t really recall ever being told “no”. Comparatively speaking, she probably had a little bit of a spoiled childhood. Her family was well off and her mother didn’t have to work. She remembered having a fun childhood, but there always seemed to be a distance between her and her dad she could never manage to cross, no matter how many times her mother intervened. 

Growing up, Allison clung to her mother and grandparents for praise and love. Her father was a business man. He went to work everyday in sharp suits and occasionally hosted cocktail parties, that she peeked in on from the top of the stairs when she should have been asleep. Maybe it was his job that made him so cool and indifferent, at times. He had admired his own father greatly and was close with his parents and her mother’s when they were alive. But she just couldn’t figure out why he didn’t take to her in the same way. At least he was kind to her mother.

Her mother had been a concert pianist, until she married and Allison was born. She gave Allison an appreciation of music. Allison would tinker at the keys, sitting at her mother’s hip on the bench while she played. Allison picked up a few things from her mom and eagerly took to lessons when she was around 7. She would play the piano at holidays for the family and, once in awhile, she would be coaxed by her mom to play a couple songs when her dad had company, before she was sent to do her homework or to bed for the night. Her mother was always happy to show off Allison’s talent.

That same enthusiasm followed Allison when she joined the Army after college. She knew her mother worried when she deployed to Afghanistan for the first time in 2003, but she never let it show. She was always so proud and supportive in the letters she sent with care packages, and when Allison had a chance to visit. Allison was disappointed that it didn’t seem to rub off on her father, though. He said he was proud of her accomplishments and told her she was doing good work, but it never quite convinced her the way her mother’s words did.

Before Allison separated from the Army, she’d applied to several national intelligence agencies, hoping to capitalize on her experience as a Human Intelligence Collector. Allison’s first job offer seemed to catch her father’s attention, but not a lot of excitement. When she joined SHIELD in ‘06, Allison had been certain it would win his approval. Once again, her expectations fell short, despite transitioning in record time from a Language Officer with Clandestine Services to fieldwork handling assets as an HIC. Even after earning the prestigious assignment to STRIKE Team Echo in 2008, and later to the Horsemen, a four man team of elite operators among the Division, she still hadn’t gotten more than a proverbial pat on the back for exceptional achievements.

The assignment to Echo stationed her in California, and she was happy for the extra space in between. It was several months after Allison moved that her mother suffered a stroke. Allison had gotten back to DC to see her in the hospital, but that was all the good news there was. Her mother passed away from complications the next night. She took some leave to stay at home and help with the arrangements and attend her mother’s funeral. Even at the worst moment in her life, her father didn’t seem to know how to be there for her. They were as stiff and uncomfortable as they had ever been. After that, Allison made visits home for holidays, birthdays and such, when she could, but the majority of phone calls they shared were started by her, trying to put in the effort like she knew her mother would want. Her father never visited California, but she didn’t expect him to anyway. He was far from ready to retire and her job made it difficult to make plans.

When Kurt proposed, he and Allison took a long weekend to visit DC, at her father’s insistence. She had hoped he would like Kurt. She was stunned by the end of the weekend, seeing how welcoming and interested he was with Kurt and her. The men got along impressively well and her father seemed so wonderfully out of character, making little excursions around town with them and treating them to a fancy dinner to celebrate their engagement. It wasn’t until the trip home that it occurred to Allison why the sudden change. Deep down she probably always suspected her father wanted a son. Now, with Kurt, he’d have that. Resentful as she was about the revelation, Allison kept her thoughts to herself, accepting that being Alexander Pierce’s daughter was never going to be good enough. 

“Thank you, Renata,” Pierce smiled, as he was served first, and laid his napkin across his lap. The housekeeper moved to serve Allison next, and Pierce spoke up, “So, tell me, how’s the new apartment?”

“I think we unpacked the last box yesterday,” Kurt proudly noted, with a wink toward Allison.

“Renata, this looks amazing,” Allison beamed, recognizing the herbs from her mother’s roast recipe.

The older woman smiled meekly, moving around to set down a plate for Kurt. “Thank you, Ms. Allison.”

The conversation centered mostly on what Allison and Kurt had been up to since the move from California. Allison casually spoke about work and adjusting to her new assignment. Her father nodded along, as she mentioned how well she and the others who moved with her from Echo to Delta had been getting along with their new teammates. Kurt was enjoying his new job, being able to do some work from home instead of having to be in the office every day. By dessert, talk had turned to investing and trades between the two men, as it usually did, and Allison smiled her thanks at tasting the added Irish in the after dinner coffee Renata had brought for her. 

When the evening wound down, Pierce escorted them to the door. Accepting Allison’s hug and turning his cheek for her kiss, he suggested, “Now that you’re here, we should do dinner more often.”

Allison nodded at the idea, considering that maybe something had finally changed. After all, her father wasn’t getting any younger, Kurt and Allison would be married next spring, and the prospect of grandchildren usually softened even the hardest of hearts. “I’d like that,” she agreed.

“Absolutely,” Kurt seconded, giving his soon-to-be father-in-law a firm handshake.

“We’ll figure something out soon then,” Pierce nodded. “Be careful getting home.”

“Good night,” Allison waved, huddled next to Kurt under the umbrella. 

Opening her car door for her, Kurt mentioned, “That went well. I think he’s really excited about you being home again.”

“Yeah,” Allison grinned, with a nod. Kurt shut the door and Allison watched him walk around to the driver’s door, mumbling to herself, “I hope so.”

Sept 2011

“You wanted to see me, Sir?”

Jack looked up from the commendation letter he was signing to see Addams step into his doorway. He nodded, waving her in. Allison shut the door behind her and walked over to stand at ease in front of his desk. Rollins clicked his pen shut, put his paperwork aside, and motioned for her to sit, as he settled back into his chair.

“Thank you, Sir,” she nodded, taking a seat.

“You can relax,” he told her. “The discussion we’re about to have is off the record.” She gave him a wary nod and Jack continued, “Cmdr. Rumlow and I are aware that you started taking your lunch with Capt. Rogers.”

“Yes, Sir,” she confirmed.

Jack nodded, thoughtfully. “How would you describe your interactions with the Captain?”

Her brow creased down and she asked, a bit defensively, “Have I done something wrong, Sir?”

“No,” he shook his head, with a polite grin. “I was just wondering how the two of you are getting along.”

His response did nothing to lessen Allison’s confusion, but she told him, “Fine.” She shrugged, with a narrow shake of her head. “I introduced myself in the cafeteria. He invited me to sit down. We talked about how he was settling in to DC and how he was getting along so far, with SHIELD. After that, I offered to show him around or help, if he needed anything. Frankly, Commander, all we do is bullshit.”

“Good,” he nodded. “What’s your take on the Captain?”

“My take?” she repeated, still not understanding what he wanted and lost for what else she could say.

“First impressions,” Jack led her on, picking up his cell phone to see the preview of the message that buzzed in as he spoke. He put the device aside for later. “What do you think of him?”

“He’s a nice guy,” she supposed. “A bit reserved, maybe. Seems like he’s got some new guy nerves, but that might just be because everyone hasn't stopped staring at him since he got here. Other than that, he’s friendly, seems like he’s-“ Allison stopped, shaking her head. “I’m sorry, Sir,” she said, “but can I ask-“

“Cmdr. Rumlow and I have our reservations about Capt. Rogers being assigned to STRIKE,” he explained. “In particular, we have reservations about him being assigned to Delta.”

Allison finally nodded her understanding. “Putting the poster boy for anti-HYDRA sentiment in the middle of a team of HYDRA deep cover agents...” she surmised. 

“Exactly,” he nodded. “We’ll be keeping an eye on Rogers. But outside of the Triskelion, we have to rely on passive surveillance to make sure he’s adjusting well and that he doesn’t become suspicious of anything that might lead him to discovering HYDRA’s entrenchment within SHIELD.

“However,” he allowed, “if there was someone close to Rogers, who he could trust to talk to about anything troubling him and could read his reac-“

“You want me to start a relationship with Capt. Rogers?” she incredulously questioned.

Jack quietly snorted, thinking of his own comment to Rumlow about the matter. He shook his head, assuring her, “No. We want you to continue building a rapport with Rogers. A friendship, that’s all. We need someone that can assess him outside of work and spot any red flags. I’m sure people will be able to get to know the Captain, as time goes by and he gets more familiar with the team and the Division, but arguably, it wouldn’t be as disarming if it were anyone else.

“People always like you,” he told her. “You’re easy to get along with. And you’ve already made the approach. I’m sure you’ll have no trouble continuing to make friends with Rogers.”

“I see,” Allison nodded. A flash of relief came to her and she let out an awkward laugh. “For a minute there, I thought you were asking me to- ...Never mind.”

“No,” Jack chuckled, giving a sweep of his head. He tipped his hand over where it laid on the desk toward her hands in her lap to indicate the ring on her left hand there. “No, I am aware that you’re engaged, Lieutenant.” 

“Of course, Sir,” she realized, a little embarrassed for the assumption she’d made about what he was asking of her. “Should I be filing regular reports, Sir?”

“That won’t be necessary,” he told her.

“And who's handling this?” Allison asked. “Should anything come up. You, Sir?”

“I’ll be your handler,” Rollins nodded. “Bring any concerns to me, immediately. ...You know how the confidence game works. Just do what you’ve been doing on your own and let us know if he does or says anything we should be worried about.” 


	5. Chapter 5

Sept 2011

“You got a steady hand,” Steve noted. “I see how you got the job with the Horsemen.” 

“Oh, yeah,” she nodded, closing her eyes and pushing her lips out in a sarcastically smug pout. “My deadly freehand trimming skills as a painter.” 

Rogers chuckled, shaking his head. He put the paint can aside and put his roller back in the tray saying, “Thanks again, Al. I’m sure you could be doing something better with your weekend than helping me paint.” 

“Are you kidding me?” she grinned, scooting back on her butt along the floor to the next bare section above the baseboard. “I’m getting free food outta this. I assure you, I had no better offers than that.” 

Putting his roller back to the living room wall, he nodded along. “I find that hard to believe, on a Friday night. I’m sure you’re fiancé’d disagree, too.”

Allison snorted. “Nah,” she shook her head and went back to the her careful work of edging along the top of the baseboard. “Not really. Kurt’s got a networking thing tonight. Those are always boring as hell. I’m happy for an excuse not to go.”

He snuffled a laugh and Allison grinned. “So, how long you two been together?” he asked. 

“Uhhbout two years, almost,” she said, leaning in to inspect her work for a moment. “Not long after I got out to California.” 

“You must miss it, huh?” he figured, moving on to the next patch of wall. “All that California sun, the beach...” 

“A little bit,” she shrugged. 

“The Potomac’s not exactly a good substitute,” Steve smirked. 

“Not. at. all,” she agreed, with a laugh. “But I like it here. It’s nice to be home. Getting back in the swing of things again, settling in to a new routine.” She looked over her shoulder at him. “How ‘bout you?” 

“Routine?” he repeated, cocking up a thoughtful brow. “Yeah, gettin’ one ‘a those. ...Still a little strange, though.” 

“I can’t even imagine,” Allison swept her head, her eyes going wide at the idea of what it must be like adjusting to such a changed world. It was quiet for a moment, except for the occasional squeak of Steve’s roller moving on its handle, before Allison spoke up again. “It’s always strange, though, isn’t it?” she considered. “I mean, we don’t see the world the way other people do. The shit we do, all that grey area we’re in all the time. Far from normal. It’s hard to explain it to some people.” She looked up at him again. “And for you? God, nothing’s normal anymore.” 

“Some things,” he nodded to himself. “Small things. But it’s taking a lot of getting used to.” 

“You're catching on quick, though,” she happily noted. “Not gonna lie, some of the guys thought you’d still be stumped by a smart phone.” 

“Oh, really?” he cocked up a brow at her. 

Allison put up her free hand to promise, “Not me, but yeah, a few.” 

“Not gonna name any names, huh?” Rogers dared, with a small grin in the corner of his mouth. 

“Nope,” she swept her head, smiling. 

“Well, at least you got someone to go home to,” he reasoned. “Someone to talk to, to help it all make sense.” 

“Aw, c’mon,” she grinned, twisting at the waist to poke the handle of her paintbrush into the side of his leg. “You got me.”

“Yeah, I guess,” he conceded, dropping his head to shake with a small snort. 

“What am I? Chopped liver?” she frowned. Steve laughed and Allison snickered when he bumped his knee into her back. “But that’s not what you meant,” she understood, going back to her painting. “I know.” 

“You’re a good friend, Allison,” he told her. “You and some ‘a the guys have been pretty kind. I know it’s not easy, letting a new guy into a company. I appreciate that.” 

“You’re a good guy, Steve,” she nodded. “So are the rest of the boys. Maybe a little rough around the edges, some of ‘em, but they’re alright. I’m still gettin’ to know some of them, too. At least you’re not the only new guy, huh?” She winked and he chuckled. “But I can tell you, anybody that doesn’t take the chance to know you is missing out. Give it a little time, and I think you’ll see you’ve got more friends than you know. Obviously,” she smugly said, with a flourish of her hand up at herself, “I’m the best of any of ‘em you’ll make.” 

“Oh, obviously,” he facetiously agreed. 

“Lord knows, we ain’t much,” she shrugged. “Half of us are crazy and the other half are crazier, but it’s family. Me and the rest of the team always got your back. You ever need anything, just need to talk or complain...the door’s always open.” 

“Thanks, Al,” he said, giving her a small nod and easy grin.

Sep 2011

Rollins gave Addams plenty of time, before he checked in on her progress with Rogers again. It had been a few weeks, when he took her aside in the gym, after one of the squad’s training sessions. He wasn’t surprised to hear that she was spending more and more time with the Captain outside of work. 

“It’s coming along easier than I thought,” she told Jack. 

“Does he suspect anything?” he checked, casually folding his arms, as he panned his gaze around the training room. “About you, or anything else?”

“No,” Allison shook her head, picking up her water bottle off the floor. “I don’t think so.”

Jack gave a nod of approval. “Keep up the good work.”

“I’m telling you, Boss,” she assured him, “it’s not work. It’s easy. He’s a good guy.”

Rollins grinned, nodding again. “I know,” he agreed. “But don’t let that be a distraction.”

Allison gave him a confident grin, quipping, “Who do you think you’re talking to? Some rookie?”

“Don’t get cocky,” he told her, smiling back. “What’s next?”

“The guy’s a little out of touch with pop culture,” she noted.

Jack smirked. “Ya don’t say?”

Allison shook her head at his sarcasm. “Yeah,” she rolled her eyes, “so we’ve been talking about music and movies, lately, given him some playlists. This weekend, we’re going to have a movie night.”

“Movie night? Hm,” he mused. “Careful, Lieutenant. He may be behind on movie references, but he might have heard about Netflix and chill.”

Rollins laughed, watching Addams slap her hand to her mouth to stop the spit take from the drink she was in the middle of. “Jesus Christ,” she muttered, smiling as she wiped at her chin. “Warn a girl,” she complained, before laughing.

With a smug grin, he turned to go, telling her, “I thought I just did.”

Allison watched after him, shaking her head and wearing a tight grin for having been bested. She grabbed a towel off the shelf by the door, wiping the sweat from her face on her way to the locker room. It wasn’t an exaggeration to say she and Steve Rogers got along great.

She’d been to his apartment several times, since their first meeting in the cafeteria, helping him with a little shopping to fill out and decorate his apartment and just to keep company. The place SHIELD had set him up in was nice, spacious but homey, in an older building near DuPont Circle. His next door neighbor struck her as a bit nosey, though. Allison had seen the attractive blonde more often than anyone else in the building, but she couldn’t blame her for being curious. After all, Captain America was living next door.

Allison enjoyed the Captain’s company. Rogers was polite and charming. He had a good sense of humor and every once in awhile, he shared a story from his time in the War. He was fascinating, and she couldn’t wait for him to open up a little more. She could tell that he was getting comfortable with her. For her part, Allison had genuinely begun to consider him a friend. Mentioning him at home, even Kurt asked about a chance to meet him. Aside from her watching for anything suspicious, there wasn’t anything different about the relationship with Rogers and any of the other friendships she’d ever had. It just came naturally.

Sep 2011

“So, just tell her you don’t want another baby.”

Rollins eyed a defeated looking Mickelson pass by him, followed by Addams shaking her head behind him, as Mick argued, “If that’s all it takes, why don’t _you_ just tell her for me?” 

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Jack grimaced. “Mickelson, are you _trying_ to ruin my lunch?“

Allison shrugged an apology of sorts to Rollins, as she held the door open behind her for him to grab. Jack dropped the last of his cigarette in the ashtray by the doorway, telling them, “Will’s got a table already.”

There was a small diner on the way to the range that SHIELD and STRIKE members sometimes stopped at. Today, a few Delta teammates opted to eat inside and dry off for the rainy day, instead of sticking around and eating off the grill at the range. Allison and Eric were a couple minutes behind, giving Jack a chance to smoke. Walking up to the table on the far side of the restaurant, the trio slid in to the booth, as Dennison was just climbing out and excusing himself to take a phone call from his wife. They looked over menus for a minute, before Mickelson got up to go to the bathroom.

“If Will and the waitress get back before me,” he told Allison, “order me something. You know what I’ll eat.”

Addams dutifully nodded, giving Eric a thumb up, and Rollins commented, “It’s a wonder you two aren’t married.” Allison snickered and Jack reconsidered, “You practically are already.”

“Guess I’m the ‘work wife’ then,” she grinned, eyes scanning over her menu.

The waitress came over with a round of ice waters for the foursome. She said she’d come back when she saw the others and Jack thanked her for them. The waitress gave him a subtle nod and, by Allison’s judgement, an extra second’s worth of too long a smile, before she turned away. It didn’t appear to have escaped Rollins’ notice either, as Allison saw the quick look after her he gave.

“What was that?” Allison asked, with a sly grin in the corner of her mouth.

“What was what?” he wondered, with a wrinkle of confusion in his brow, as he tilted down his menu to see her.

“ _That_ ,” she led him on.

“What?” Rollins frowned.

“You know,” she insisted, inclining her head toward the waitress a few tables away, before he went back to his reading. “That little moment. With you and the waitress you just had there?”

“Nothing,” he told her, not even bothering to take his eyes off the menu in his hands.

“Didn't look like nothing,” she playfully persisted, absolutely amused by what she’d seen.

“Why does it have to be anything?” Jack asked, still mostly ignoring her, even as he saw her lean onto her arms on the table from the top of his eye.

“I’m intrigued,” Allison admitted, propping her chin up on her fist to stare at him. “Is this you flirting?”

He couldn’t help the quirked up brow and tired look he gave her, before he put his menu aside at the end of the table. “Did you hit your head, or something?”

“This is amazing,” she marveled. “I mean, you’re so...” Her eyes leveled and brow wrinkled down, looking for the words and settling on, “cold and _mean_ all the time. The idea of you _actually_ -“

“You probably want to choose your next words very carefully, Lieutenant,” he deliberately spoke, despite his inward amusement at the way she was studying him.

But she wasn’t thrown. If anything, it made her smile widen, as she went on, “PT the shit outta me, or whatever punishment you have in mind, but I’m gonna say it. You _actually_ have feelings, don’t you, Boss? I mean, you’re not just all business and regs all the time.”

“Nobody is,” he flatly told her, “smartass. If somebody gives you a look, you’re gonna look back and check out your prospects. That’s all. Don’t sit over there and pretend you’re some beacon of prudish morality.”

“You gonna get her number?” Allison pressed, eagerly biting the side of her lip into her teeth to wait for his answer.

With a snort and sweep of his head, he told her, “No.” Not that he would in front of her, anyway.

“Aww,” she groused, her posture deflating as she slumped back into the corner of her side of the booth. “You’re no fun.”

“What's that?” Mick wondered, coming back to slide in next to Allison, with Dennison in tow.

“Nothing,” Allison grumbled, folding her arms across her belly as she slouched.

Jack smirked, giving her a shake of his head. The waitress came back, and Allison made an unnecessary cough when the woman gave Jack an extra smile when he ordered. Beneath the table, Rollins kicked his boot into Allison’s shin and she snickered, straightening up in her seat to give her order. Allison didn’t mention the waitress again, but Jack was aware of Allison’s shit eating grin whenever the woman came over to the table. 

After their meal and on the way back out to the parking lot, Allison couldn’t help but comment, “No number, huh?” 

Rollins smirked, telling her, “This is the only decent restaurant near the range. A wise man once said, you don’t shit where you eat, Lieutenant.”

Allison laughed out loud, veering off from Rollins and Dennison for her ride with Eric. “Hell hath no fury...” she agreed. “Probably doing us all a favor, when you put it that way.”

“You’re welcome,” he nodded in agreement.


	6. Chapter 6

Oct 2011

There were worse ways to spend a Saturday night at work. Sitting in the restaurant of a high end DC hotel, enjoying a perfectly cooked steak, wasn’t one of them.

The team had secured and vetted the workers, with the help of the Russian embassy. Some of the Russian agents were mixed in with the detail from Delta, helping to surveil the room for the pending arrival of the Russian Ambassador for dinner with a “friend” to discuss some “business”. While Addams and her part of the special duty team escorted the Ambassador from the airfield, the rest of the operators controlled security for the arrival and meal, including plain clothes operators in the dining room and snipers on the adjacent rooftops. And Jack oversaw it all, with the technical assistance of the men running the electronic and communication end of the work back in the Triskelion.

“ _Uhh...Oscar 1-2_ ,” Strickland came through the comms device in Jack’s ear.

“ _Yyep_ ,” Mickelson answered, from his seat at a table with Dennison and Haney.

“ _Hey_ ,” Brian continued. “ _Check your 4 o’clock for me_.”

“Lima 1-4,” Rollins chimed in, sitting up a little straighter, as he opened the mic hidden in his lapel with the press of a button in his palm, “you got something?”

“ _Negative, Oscar 1-1_ ,” Strickland answered. “ _Just, uh...need a confirmation_.”

“You know how I live for vagueness,” Jack dryly noted.

“ _Lima 1-4, you gotta be shittin’ me_ ,” Eric grumbled.

“ _Lima 1-4. That’s what I thought_ ,” Strickland sighed.

“Somebody better fill me in, before I start to get really pissed,” Jack warned, ahead of a sip of his drink.

“ _Oscar 1-1, I’m gonna call you_ ,” he advised.

Jack rolled his eyes, reaching in to his suit jacket for his phone. A few seconds later, it buzzed in his hand with Strickland’s call. Rollins speared another bite of food onto his fork, telling him to go ahead, while he kept eating.

“Yyeah,” Brian hesitantly began, “the grey suit at your 11 o’clock, with the brunette in the green.”

“Got him,” Rollins acknowledged.

There was a pause before Strickland reluctantly told him, “Yeah, that’s Al’s fiancé, Kurt.”

Jack swallowed his bite of steak, carefully eyeing the man for a moment, and immediately disapproving of his affectionate demeanor a few tables away. “And the woman?”

“Not Al,” Strickland flatly said. “Never seen her before, but he’s supposed to be out of town.”

“I see,” Rollins nodded to himself, reaching for his drink.

“I fuckin’ knew it,” Strickland growled. “There’s been something about him, since we made the move from the Citadel.”

Jack palmed the button to open the mic again. “Oscar 1-1. Control. November 1-1’s ETA?” 

“Stand by,” the controller in the TOC answered. Jack took a sip while he waited for the controller to check in with the other half of the detail on a separate frequency. “ _ETA 16_ _mikes_.” 

“Oscar 1-1, copy,” Rollins replied.

“If Al walks in here and sees him...” Brian worried.

“Yeah,” Jack exhaled, already imagining the scenarios.

“I can take the shot from here,” he offered, a little too eager from his sniper’s nest across the street from the hotel. “Just gimme the good word.”

“As much as I think we’d all enjoy that, if you’re right...” Rollins smirked.

“Don’t see any other explanation for it,” Strickland told him. “They’re a little too friendly for me. And, like I said, he’s not even supposed to be here. ...Look, Boss, I know you don’t know her like we do, but she doesn’t deserve to see this.”

Rollins caught a glance from Mickelson, across the dining room. He saw the irritation and concern in his quick look and Jack assured Brian, “I got this.” and ended the call.

Strickland was right. Rollins didn’t know Addams the way he and Mickelson did. His relationship was decidedly limited to professional, by its circumstances, despite the physical attraction to her and casual friendship that was developing for being teammates now. He didn’t know her fiancé and he knew next to nothing about their relationship. For all he knew, Kurt was an otherwise great guy and this might all be a misunderstanding. Looks could be deceiving.

But, at the minimum, a bad reaction from Addams seeing what appeared to be her fiancé wining and dining another woman was a risk to OpSec. And, unfortunately for Kurt, Jack was in no mood to manage the potential soup sandwich that could come from a woman scorned. Regardless of the constrained friendship he and Allison had, Rollins always had zero tolerance for liars and had a strong distaste for cheaters. Besides, nobody fucks with his people in general, and certainly nobody fucks with his squad in particular. He decided to trust Strickland’s assessment. 

Jack took a drink of water and put the napkin from his lap on the table beside his plate. He walked straight over to the other table. Without invitation, he pulled out a chair from the empty table next to Kurt’s, turning it around to join the couple. Jack angled himself to the dumbfounded man, giving him a confident grin and saying, “Hey, man. How’s it going?”

“Excuse me?” Kurt curiously begged. “Do I know you?”

“Kurt, right?” Jack kept grinning, pointing a casual finger at him. Without taking his eyes off Kurt’s, he told the brunette, “Sorry, miss, I didn’t catch your name.”

“Um, Chloe,” she awkwardly answered.

“Who are you?” Kurt asked, the squint in his eye saying he was searching for any reason to recognize Rollins but coming up empty-handed.

“Don’t worry. You don’t know me, but I’m a friend of your fiancé, Allison,” he told him. Jack heard the heavy fork fall next to him and he had his confirmation that Brian was right. “From work,” Jack added. “We’re actually working here tonight, not that you would have known.” He kept his tone conversational, smirking at the man’s suddenly flustered expression. “Oh, I’m sorry,” Jack feigned concern, gaze still fixed on Kurt. “Chloe, did he not mention his fiancé?”

“No, he didn’t,” she evenly said.

Rollins finally gave her his attention, turning to her with a sympathetic smile for her embarrassment at the situation. “He must have forgotten. But I’m sure Kurt here is happy to pay for dinner, anyway.”

“Yeah,” she muttered. “I’m sure he is.”

“Wait just a damn minute,” Kurt protested.

“Thank you,” Chloe shyly offered to Jack and he gave her a nod of welcome, watching for a moment as she gathered her purse and left.

“Who the h-“

Jack was on him in an instant, holding up a finger to silence Kurt. “Shut it, Romeo,” he scowled. “Here’s what’s going to happen.” Rollins leaned his arm onto the table, leveling his gaze at Kurt. “You’re going to call for the check, leave a very nice tip, and get your ass out of here.” He lifted his hand from the table, splaying his fingers to emphasize, “Five minutes.”

“I don’t know who the fuck you think you are, bu-“

“All you need to know about me is that I’m not done yet,” Jack told him. “You’re going to go back to your apartment and wait for Allison to get home from work. It’ll be late, but you’ll be up. When she gets there, you’re going to tell her that moving here from California is too much for you, you miss your old friends and job, and you came home early to tell her that you’re sorry, but you’re moving back.” Kurt opened his mouth to argue, but Rollins pushed on, ignoring his attempt to speak. “In fact, you’re gonna sleep at a hotel tonight and give her her space. You won’t have to pack a bag, because she already thinks you’re out of town, right? And you’ve already got a room at this hotel, I bet.”

Kurt sat back a little from the table, seeming to catch on that he didn’t have much of a choice but to keep listening. “Be sure to tell her, it’s not her fault. It’s just that you’re a fucking coward who doesn’t deserve her,” Jack went on. “You’re going to go back to California, without giving her any trouble and making it as easy on her as possible, and maybe, just maybe, she doesn’t have to hear what a piece of shit you really are and kill you herself.

“I’m sure you can hustle up and be moved out while she’s at the office tomorrow,” Jack firmly said. “Because if you don’t, I’m willing to bet, between me and Mick and Brian, and the rest of my guys, we can make the rest of your life, for however long we decide that is, a living hell.” Jack sat up straight, the friendly, but confident, smile back on his face. “Sound good?”

Kurt slowly nodded. “Yeah,” he begrudgingly agreed. “I guess so.”

“Good,” Rollins said, letting the smile fall from his face to point out, “because you’re down to four minutes.” He keyed up his microphone again, telling Strickland, “Lima 1-4. Oscar 1-1. Situation resolved.” Jack stood up, giving Kurt a nod. “Have a good night.”

“Yeah,” Kurt scoffed. “Fuck you.”

Jack proudly grinned, putting back his chair and turning to go back to his table. He settled into his seat, laying his napkin over his lap again and picking up his fork to continue his meal. He kept a close eye on Kurt, watching him hurry through paying the check, with cash, and getting out of the restaurant. Kurt gave Rollins an angry side eye on his way out. Jack acknowledged him with a jut of his chin, half-hoping the philanderer would come over and give him an excuse to knock his ass out.

Jack’s phone buzzed in his pocket and he connected the call, hearing Strickland, before he even answered, eagerly ask, “What happened?”

“Kurt’s decided he’s moving back to California,” Rollins casually mentioned.

“No shit?” he balked.

“Shouldn’t be,” he figured, “if he knows what’s good for him.”

“Outstanding,” Brian replied. “Thanks, Boss. It’d have been a lot of paperwork for you, if me or Mick had to do that.”

“Not a problem,” Rollins assured him, taking a sip of his whiskey. “By the way, the brunette’s pretty hot. I hear she’s single.”

“Might look in to that,” Strickland chuckled. “Thanks for the tip.”

“Anytime,” he smirked.

“Fuck,” Brian complained. “She’s not gonna be happy.”

“S’pose we’ll just keep this among the three of us,” Jack decided and Strickland agreed.

“Yeah, I don’t know how this’d go over if she found out we found out first. I mean,” he considered, “it’s for the best. I know she wouldn’t keep him after something like this, but still.”

“You guys just play dumb and check up on her, if she’s off a little tomorrow,” Rollins suggested. “Make sure she’s got her head right, if you see anything. We’ve still got one more day of this Russian asshole.”

“Absolutely,” he promised. “She’ll be fine.”

Allison was fine, on the outside anyway. It was anyone’s guess what she was thinking. When the squad met late the next morning for the day’s briefing for the Russian Ambassador’s next excursion, she looked as squared away as the day before. But Jack was watching carefully. He noticed the hint of redness in her eyes from the night before, and he regretted knowing why it was there when he asked, “Everything alright, Addams? You look a little run down this morning.”

She nodded, pinning on an easy smile. “Late night,” she told him. “But no big deal.”

He accepted the excuse, admiring her determination. Giving her a nod, he reminded her, “Well, only 9 more hours and this jackass is on a plane and not our problem anymore.”

“It’ll go by quick,” she agreed, picking up her notes from the briefing and heading for the door to follow the others to the Motor Pool.

The rest of the day went as planned. Allison was happy for everything to be going like clockwork. She wasn’t in the mood for anything else unexpected this weekend. She was still a mix of emotions from the night before; hurt, confused, surprised, disappointed, angry, and everything in between. Kurt had come home early from his trip. That was her first clue that something was amiss. But she didn’t expect the reason why.

The move seemed to have gone well. The apartment was in order and had worked out better than they’d hoped, with the limited time they had to find one and relocate. Hell, even her father seemed happy to have her back in town and looked to be putting in a new effort when they’d gone to his house for dinners. It was all going so well. Or so she’d thought.

Allison was heartbroken. She was so caught off guard by Kurt’s decision to leave that she was almost speechless. There hadn’t been any hints that he was unhappy, but then again, she had been busier in DC than her old team had been before. A consequence of being on hand with the other teams for more training and a different rotation schedule. It didn’t help that Kurt didn’t offer any better argument than the excuse about missing home. But maybe asking him to leave his native California just turned out to be a bigger change than he could handle. He’d assured her though, it wasn’t her fault and she deserved better anyway. Nevertheless, it still hurt.

In the meantime, Allison channeled all of her frustration into her work. She executed her part of the mission with precision. The Ambassador was on his plane and taxiing for takeoff, safe and sound, by 2130. On the tarmac, the team from SHIELD took the thanks of their Russian counterparts for their help with the Ambassador’s security and the offer for some well deserved drinks. Everyone but Addams.

She plucked the comms device from her ear, tucking it away in the hardsided case for the rest of the communications equipment in the back of the requisitioned SUV and shook her head. “Thanks, boys, but I hear my bed calling,” she told them, to the ruckus of disapproving groans and pleas for her to join them. “It’s been a long weekend.”

Rollins stepped up, adding his own mic and earwig to the equipment case, as Allison slipped the mic from her jacket sleeve. “Don’t be a pussy, Addams,” he prodded, with a grin. “I know you’re still figuring out how we do business here on the East coast, but when these guys offer you a drink, you don’t say no to the best damn vodka you’ll ever have. It would spark an international incident.”

Jack was feeling more than a little guilty for his part in her “long weekend”. He figured a couple drinks out among friends would do her some good, even if she didn’t realize it. At the very least, the squad could commiserate with the Russian spies over what a pain in the ass it was whenever the Wolf visited. It was a rare occasion for the two former Cold War sparrers to be on the same side, as it were, and to be able to enjoy a couple of hours celebrating a successful mission without politics getting in the way.

“Come on, Al,” Brian chimed in.

“Come on, Al,” Mick seconded.

There were a few comments from the Russians, begging her to join them, in their native tongue, insisting the vodka only tasted good in the company of a beautiful woman. If she didn’t go, it’d taste “like the American brewed swill.” Her lips puckered in a smile, shaking her head at their facetious swooning and egging her on.

“Peer pressure, Al,” Dennison threw in.

“They’re not gonna stop,” Jack pointed out.

“Ladno!” she gave in, throwing her hands up in defeat, as the spies threw up their hands in victory. “Sdayus'. YA idu.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Russian taken from Google Translate. Apologies for any errors.


	7. Chapter 7

Oct 2011

“Hey, Dad,” Allison said, flashing a weak grin on her way through the door.

She turned, seeing her father look back out the door and then to her. “Where’s Kurt?”

With a long blink, Allison sighed. “He’s not coming,” she reluctantly told him.

“Oh. Well,” Pierce smiled, “that’s okay. Have to work late, did he?”

Allison gave a warm grin to Renata, as she came up to take Allison’s coat. “No, actually...” Allison paused, giving a sweep of her tilted head before she could confess, “He called off the engagement.”

There was a worried hitch in Renata’s breath, as she stopped on her way to the foyer closet to give Allison a heavyhearted frown. Allison helplessly shrugged and her father was quiet for a moment. He put his hands on his hips and mused a quiet, “Huh.”

She didn’t know what exactly she expected, but it was more than that. “Yeah,” she agreed, lacking anything better to say.

On her way back down the hall to the kitchen, Renata gave Allison’s arm a gentle squeeze and Pierce finally asked, “Why did he do that?”

“I’m really not sure,” Allison admitted. “Everything was fine and then, the other night, he came home early from a trip and said he missed California. He said he wanted to move back home.” She shrugged again, pressing her lips together to stop the small tremor she felt beginning there. “That was it,” she shook her head.

“Oh, dear,” he sighed, stepping over to hug her. “I'm sorry to hear that.”

Allison rested her cheek to his shoulder, hugging him back. It was a rare occasion that she got any genuine affection from her father, let alone sympathy. But she was happy for his support now.

“Is that Allison?”

“What?” she asked, lifting her head to look behind her.

“Ah, there she is,” the older man beamed. “Your father said you were coming.”

“You have company?” Allison quietly questioned. “I thought we were having dinner.”

“We are,” Pierce assured her, holding out his upturned hand to his guests coming through the living room. “Allison, you remember Director Hudson and his wife, Nancy.”

“Of course,” Allison nodded, pinning on a pleasant smile and accepting the HYDRA Officer’s hand. “Director, how are you? Mrs. Hudson, it’s so nice to see you again.”

It had been years since Allison had seen the older couple. There was a point as Allison was growing up, maybe at 9 or 10 years old, that her mother had put her foot down about her father bringing work home with him. The number of cocktail parties dwindled and guests at dinner, who weren’t family or friends outside of HYDRA or SHIELD, were rare. It wasn’t until Allison moved out for college that their home was open again, so to speak.

Allison figured out who her father worked for, even before her mother’s insistence to try and keep it from her. Kids are remarkably perceptive and her mother never picked up on how much Allison really knew. Allison had overheard enough things to put it together for herself, when she would sneak looks in on evenings from the top of the stairs or from her father talking on the phone.

She understood her mother’s wanting to shelter her from it, but growing up, nothing about HYDRA was frightening or abnormal. She saw well-dressed men, like her father, discussing politics and policy, like the people on television and in movies. When she was small, her family visited with some of HYDRA’s other members and associates at their homes; she played with their children. None of it was unusual.

“Look at you,” Nancy gushed. “I swear, you’re even more the mirror image of your mother than you were before.”

“Thank you,” she shyly accepted.

“Bob came in to town for a meeting with Senator Stern,” Pierce explained. “I thought we could all have dinner together.”

“Yes,” Hudson chimed in, “I was very interested to hear you were back in DC again.” His enthusiastic smile turned frown, adding, “It’s a shame we had to lose your team in the cutbacks, but I was glad to hear that you chose to stay with STRIKE.”

No one inside the walls of SHIELD knew who Allison’s father was, and within HYDRA circles it wasn’t a talking point. Allison had changed her name, taking her mother’s maiden name before entering the Army, already thinking of the benefits of dissociating herself from the Pierce family name for the career track she had in mind. However, growing up as the child of one of HYDRA’s rising stars, it was inevitable that certain key players in the organization would know who she was. It didn’t matter, though. She rarely crossed paths with anyone and, when she did, they were all aware of how she preferred to be professionally separated from her father and they quietly obliged. 

“How was the move?” Nancy politely inquired, as Pierce ushered them all to move to the dining room.

“Fine,” Allison replied. “Just fine. Found a place in Foxhall Village. All settled in, now.”

“And I’m certain I heard somewhere that you‘re engaged,” she winked. “He couldn’t make it tonight?”

“Oh, yeah,” Allison stalled, pulling out a chair for herself next to her father. 

“Actually,” Pierce spoke up, “he went back to California. For work...awhile ago. Had an opportunity out there that was too good to pass up.”

“Oh, my. I’m so sorry,” Nancy frowned, slipping her arm into Allison’s to offer a bit of comfort. She swatted at her husband’s arm, saying, “It’d kill you to keep in touch better.”

“Well,” Pierce smiled, “at least he keeps up with the business news.”

The group all chuckled and Allison was grateful for her father’s exaggerations. She figured it was mostly to save his own face in front of his friends, though. After all, he was quite fond of Kurt. That the Director of Special Operations for HYDRA and his wife knew and were asking about Kurt said that Pierce had obviously spoken highly of him. Either way, Renata came in to the room with the first of three courses and the conversation, thankfully, turned to their meal.

...

“A little warning would have been nice,” Allison groused, from behind a smile, as she waved goodnight to Director Hudson and his wife from the front door.

“It was a spur of the moment thing,” Pierce casually excused, stepping back from the open doorway. Allison rolled her eyes, coming back inside. “Besides, it doesn’t hurt for you to put in a smile with the powers that be, every once in awhile.”

“Renata,” Allison began, heading back to the dining room, where the housekeeper was stacking saucers and cups from the evening’s coffee, “can I help you with that?”

“No, thank you, Ms. Allison,” she declined.

But Allison was already picking up the napkins and utensils from the table, even as her father told her, “You don’t have to worry about that. Renata can take care ot it.”

“I know,” Allison nodded, continuing into the kitchen anyway. She dropped the silverware in the sink, as Renata began loading the dishwasher. “Dinner was wonderful, as always,” Allison complimented her.

“Thank you, Miss,” Renata smiled. “I wrapped an extra piece of cake for you to take home.”

“Oh, Renata,” Allison cooed, leaning back against the counter, “you do love me.”

“Yes, Miss,” the housekeeper blushed. “My mother always said, chocolate heals a broken heart.”

“It better be a big piece of cake,” Allison dryly quipped.

“I’ll wrap two,” she winked.

“Allison?” her father called from the other room.

Her brow rose, as she inhaled and pushed herself to stand up straight. “Here we go,” she muttered, and Renata snickered behind her. Allison found her father in the living room, just settling in to the end of the couch with a tumbler of scotch in his hand. “Yes?” 

“Come, sit down,” he invited, with a small motion of his hand. “I hear you’ve been making friends with Steve Rogers.”

Turning herself into the corner of the couch to see him better, Allison put her arm on the back of the cushion and propped her head up on her fist. “Word gets around, huh?”

“How’s that going?” Pierce wondered, ahead of a sip of his drink.

Allison shrugged, with a thoughtful pout. “Good. He’s a nice guy. I’ve been showing him around some, getting him caught up on the 21st century a bit.” Pierce nodded along and Allison offered, “You expect me to have some dirt on him already?”

“No,” he chuckled and shook his head, brow rising in indifference. “No, I was just rather surprised.”

“Cmdr. Rollins asked me to keep an eye on him, after he heard we’d been speaking,” Allison noted.

Pierce nodded. “That’s what I heard from Rumlow. And I think it’s a good idea.” 

“Probably,” she conceded. 

“Of course,” he continued, “if you see or hear anything, anything at all, that should concern us-“

“I would let Rollins know, immediately, and move the information through my chain of command,” she assured him.

He gave her a confident smile and took another drink. “I also hear you’re settling in quite nicely with your new assignment.”

“I am,” she agreed. “Or, at least, _I_ think so. I like it, anyway.” She nodded to herself, considering, “They're good people. It’s starting to feel like home again.” 

Oct 2011

Regulations required any new or ended significant relationships be reported to maintain the integrity of certain security clearances of STRIKE operators, especially ones in specialized assignments like Allison’s. She had made her written notification to Cmdr. Rumlow that Monday, after Kurt was confronted by Rollins at the restaurant, and the info was shared with Rollins and a few other relevant email addresses in a forwarded message for certain protocols to be instituted. Strickland had also taken Jack aside a couple days later to tell him that Allison told him and Mickelson Kurt had broken off the engagement and moved back to California.

“I don’t know what you said to him,” Strickland had told Jack, “but it worked.”

That first Monday at the Triskelion, Jack noticed Allison wasn’t wearing her engagement ring. She seemed as tired as she had the day before, if not looking a little more so, after a late night of drinking with the Russians. But she had laughed with the others, and seemed to forget about her worries for a couple hours then. That was enough to assuage Jack’s guilt for his part in her unhappiness, for a little while.

Allison didn’t publicly say anything about her split. That Rollins knew, she’d only told Brian and Mick. Not that he expected it to be a point of the daily briefing, but he was surprised everyone was seemingly polite enough to just ignore the disappearance of her engagement ring all together. She didn’t wear it during contact training or when it was possible to be lost or damaged, and certainly not on a mission, but the large diamond easily caught anyone’s attention when it was around. He was a little proud of the team for leaving her her dignity.

During her first week alone, Allison was noticeably withdrawn. She seemed to slowly recover a bit of her energy and enthusiasm as the days wore on. She smiled more and chimed in to conversations here and there, more and more frequently. After awhile, no one could tell that the old Allison had ever been gone.

Despite knowing it was probably for the best, Rollins still regretted having forced that situation on her. He gave her plenty of room, after that night with the Russians, but kept a close eye. Maybe out of some kind of morbid curiosity, but mostly to convince himself that she was handling everything well and that he hadn’t ruined her life. He couldn’t vouch for her time off duty, but her performance at work didn’t suffer and it gave him a little solace.

Still, a couple of weeks later, out at the range for some training, as he was double checking the ammo inventory on his clipboard against what was lined on the table in front of him, Jack couldn’t help observing, “You seem to be squared away again.”

“I’m sorry, what?” Allison shook her head, reaching for a box of .223 and missing his meaning.

He kept his attention on his work, looking between the boxes, cases, and cans of ammunition and his tally, noting, “You've been a little quiet lately.” Finishing his mental counting, he looked up. “Nice to have you back.”

There was a hint of shyness in her smile, as she quietly said, “Yeah. ...Thanks.”

“It’s a team sport, Addams,” he mentioned. “You ever need something, you let us know.”

“Yes, Sir,” she nodded, with an appreciative grin. She wasn’t sure how much he knew, or if maybe he was just picking up on something, but the sentiment was endearing.

“Do me a favor, huh?” Jack wondered and Addams nodded her agreement. “Cephas bet me fifty bucks he’d outshoot everyone today,” he told her. “Someone should put him in his place. Don’t let me down.”

A wicked grin tugged up the side of her mouth for the challenge. “You get fifty bucks. What do I get?”

Rollins chuckled. “Don’t make me pay him and I’ll buy you a beer.”

“Done,” she confidently nodded.

...

True to her word, Allison outscored Cephas. True to his, Rollins paid for her first beer at Barny’s that evening. Sitting around one of the tables in the back, a handful of Delta operators nursed beers and took shots, bullshitting and trash talking about everyone’s performance on the range over dinner. 

As the night was winding down, Mickelson put his arm around Allison’s shoulders and declared, “It’s about damn time you came back out with us.” 

“Here here,” Strickland seconded, lifting his glass. She had been absent from the team’s nights out since the split and didn’t realize how much it’d been noticed. “Missed you, Aloysius.”

“Now, what we _need_ to do,” Eric decided, as Jack and a couple others chuckled at Brian’s name for Addams, “is get the poker games going again.”

Allison snorted, conceding, “It has been awhile.”

“You play?” Dennison wondered, and Allison nodded into her drink.

“Don’t let her fool you,” Eric warned. “She’s a fuckin’ shark.”

Allison hid her eyes behind her hand and shook her head, a bit embarrassed. “I am not,” she argued with a shied smile.

“It’s just that sometimes the other players get distracted by, uh, her,” Brian obnoxiously cleared his throat and tipped his head down toward her chest, “ahem, assets.”

“Oh, bullshit,” Allison complained, throwing a peanut at him, while the others gathered around the table laughed. “I don’t do that.” She pointed a stern finger at him. “And you know it.”

“Maybe you don’t _know_ you do it,” Greer slyly suggested.

Allison gave his arm a shove and huffed, as Mick explained, “She doesn’t know she does it. That’s what makes it such an effective tactic.”

Jack chuckled, seeing the shade of pink coming to Allison’s cheeks, as Greer asked, “So, you guys stopped playing, or something?”

“Agh,” Brian groaned. “Her lame ass fiancé ruined it.”

The embarrassment in Allison's expression was replaced by a frown. “Yeah, well...” she muttered, ahead of a shrug and drink.

“We had a pretty regular game going, for awhile,” Mickelson added. “He didn’t play, though. I think he was jealous about it.”

“Another way we all _spent_ _too_ _much_ _time_ _together_ ,” Strickland mockingly agreed. He shrugged, allowing, “But we were a pretty intimidating crew, for a civie like him.”

“You could tell,” Eric nodded. “I mean, he tried, but,” he shrugged, with a pout and tip of his head, “you could tell.”

Rollins noticed how Addams had shrank away from the conversation, literally sinking back in her chair away from the table. “So,” Jack spoke up, seeing the need to turn the topic around, “sounds like we need a game.” He sat up a little straighter, putting his empty beer bottle on the table. “Next Friday,” he decided. “Who’s in?”

“Sign me up,” Eric eagerly raised his hand.

“I’m in,” Strickland nodded.

“Out,” Cephas said, with a sweep of his head. “Have to go to a thing with the missus.”

“I’m down,” Dennison chimed in.

Haney waggled a hand in the air. “Maybe. Gotta check with the wife.”

Jack looked to Addams, cocking up an expectant brow. “LT?” he prompted. 

Allison looked around, realizing she was the center of everyone’s attention, as Mickelson put a hand on her shoulder to give it an encouraging shake. “Cah’mon,” Eric urged.

“You’re the reason we’re doing it,” Jack pointed out. “Don’t shit on our hospitality.”

“Alright,” she grinned. “I’m in.”

Rollins proudly smirked for her agreeing to join them. He was happy to have her out of her shell again, but that wasn’t the only reason. The offer did a little good for everyone. It had been more than a few months since any of the guys from Delta had a game. Deployments and other obligations had pushed it aside and nobody had really made the effort to get it going again, until now. It was one of several small ways members of the team stayed close, and Jack figured it’d be a good way for the squad to keep building the new bond with the trio from Echo.


	8. Chapter 8

Nov 2011

“I think this went well,” Mickelson announced.

There were a few words of agreement and approving nods from people drinking. Allison smiled, appreciating the night out. She’d essentially cloistered herself away after Kurt left. Even her texts has been noticeably brief and she’d backed off her efforts to get to know the Captain. It felt good to get back into the world again, with her new teammates and old friends, having some drinks and playing cards.

“We should really do this on the regular again,” Mick suggested.

“What was regular?” Dennison wondered, tapping the end of the deck to straighten the cards to put back in the box.

“In a good month?” Strickland considered. “Once a week, when deployments were slow.”

“You spoiled brats over at the Citadel,” Emery scoffed, with a grin to say he was making a joke. “Sitting around, working on your tans and playing cards once a week while us _real_ operators put in the work outta DC.”

“If you’re trying to shame me,” Eric tipped his head, “that ain’t gonna do it. Not when my view regularly included bikinis whenever we flew in over the coast for training or sorties.”

“Sounds like a real hard life,” Rollins snorted.

Allison checked the time on her phone, while she complained, “So much for keeping my tan in winter. I kinda miss California.”

“Yeah,” Brian piped up. “ _See_? We sacrificed a lot taking this assignment. How ‘bout a little respect?”

Dennison threw a chip across the table at Brian, telling him, “Respect is earned.” 

Allison stood up, grabbing a fistful of empty beer bottles from the table to take into the kitchen. From the other room, plans were debated for the next game. Dennison followed her a few seconds later, getting a beer from his fridge. Allison waved off the offer of another drink and they rejoined the others.

“How about yours, Al?” Haney suggested.

A wrinkle came to her brow, as she took her seat again and asked, “My what?”

“The next game,” Mick prompted. “Your place? Can’t do Haney’s, ‘cause his wife’s got a thing next week.”

“I’m still, kind of, looking for furniture,” she vaguely said. 

Allison was exaggerating. In all honesty, she’d only sent a couple pieces of furniture back to California for Kurt. She could accommodate the group around her dining room table, with a couple extra chairs pulled up. Teith was, if anything, she was considering getting rid of everything in the apartment for the sake of a fresh start. But Allison didn’t usually entertain company, regardless. Not from work anyway. She didn’t keep many photos or personal touches about her family on display, just in case, but keeping colleagues out of her home meant the odds of them finding a link between her and her father were greatly reduced. She’d made a career for herself with her mother’s name, not her father’s, for just that reason.

“Why don’t we just do it at my place?” Strickland spoke up. “No wife or kids to get permission from. Plenty of room.”

“Haven’t seen the new place all finished, yet,” Addams casually remarked, happy for the change of venue.

“Sounds good to me,” Haney seconded.

“There ya have it,” Jack decided.

“Hey,” Emery spoke up, “ you know who else plays cards? ...Cap.”

“No shit,” Dennison mused, with a thoughtful pout and nod. “Figured he‘d be a little too straight laced for gambling.”

Addams smirked. “You’d be surprised. I actually think you guys would like hanging out with him,” she said, with a sure nod.

“Are we really considering inviting Miss America to the next game?” Haney scoffed.

Jack shrugged, conceding, “We could use some alternates, if we’re going to make this a thing.”

“Do we really not know anyone else?” Haney frowned.

“The big boss plays,” Dennison reminded them. 

“Who? Rumlow?” Allison checked.

Dennison nodded and hummed, while he swallowed his drink. “Had more than a few pick up games with him,” he shrugged.

“Well, sounds like the list is rounding out nicely,” Rollins noted with a grin, thinking ahead to more opportunites to get to know Allison a little better and get Rogers a little more bonded with some of his teammates. 

Nov 2011

“She seems to be bouncing back.”

“Huh?” Jack questioned around his mouthful of food, bringing his gaze up to Rumlow. His turned to see what Brock was looking at, when Rumlow had jutted his chin toward the bar.

“Between the girls over there and you guys with the poker games...” Brock noted. “I’m just sayin’.”

Across the way, Addams was still at the bar with the other female operators from STRIKE. They were all dressed for a casual night out. Nothing about them advertised who they were to the any of the patrons who didn’t already know them, or at least recognize their faces. Rollins zeroed in on the business casual man and his friend with the loosened tie chatting up the ladies. And seeming to be doing a good job of it. One of the men was paying particular attention to Allison and earning a bright smile from her for whatever he had just said.

Rollins nodded with a hum, trying not to seem interested. “Good for her.”

“Never heard what happened there,” Brock said, ahead of a pull off his beer. “Here one minute and gone the next? Bet there’s a good story.”

Jack was grateful for his next bite keeping him from replying right away. It took him a minute to find the nerve, but he confessed, “I’m the reason her fiancé ditched her.”

“What?” Brock asked, turning a suspicious eye to him, the question flat and heavy.

“Not like that,” Rollins grimaced in disgust of the implied allegation in Rumlow’s expression.

“Explain,” he said, the tone an unquestionable order.

“The last time the Wolf was in town,” Jack recounted, “Strickland and Mick...” He shook his head at the unfortunate memory and wiped his napkin past his mouth. “They spotted her fiancé in the hotel restaurant that night, having dinner and being a little too friendly with some girl. He was supposed to be out of town.”

“This is turning out to be a better explanation than I was afraid it might be,” he allowed, and Jack went on.

“She was still en route to the hotel,” Jack recalled. “The guys thought if she saw him, it might be some trouble.” Rumlow turned over a hand to signal him to go on. “So I went over and called him out. The poor girl didn’t know what was going on. She took off, and I told him to disappear. Told him to give her some bullshit story about missing California and wanting to go back. That if he made it easy on her and left while she was working the next day, she wouldn’t have to hear about the other woman.” He still felt guilty telling Brock, “She showed up the next morning, eyes all red, like she’d been up all night or crying. She came in that Monday, without the ring, and made her notification.”

“You got some balls,” Rumlow decided. For a moment Jack smirked, a little amused by the assessment, until Brock added, “Fuckin’ gettin’ involved like that.”

Jack’s expression fell, as his brow knit down. “What?”

“Don’t what me,” he scowled. “You’re responsible for her fiancé leaving her?”

“What were we supposed to-“

“You keep your god damn nose out of other people’s personal business,” Brock confidently told him, “that’s what you do.” Jack started to protest again, but Rumlow raised a finger from his elbow on the table to stop him. “Who are you three idiots to get involved? Maybe she would’ve found it out later on her own and kicked ‘im out, but you don’t know what she would’a done. You don’t know if she could forgive him or if he could’ve made a mistake and never cheated again, if that’s what he was gonna do. You ever stop to consider maybe _you_ _three_ ruined everything and not him?”

“The guys didn't think so,” Rollins argued, feeling his irritation grow the longer Brock went on.

“Who the fuck are they?” he challenged. “Or _you_? Her _CO_ , meddling in her private life like that without her knowing? You need to take a step back and get some fuckin’ clarity about how fucked you could be, if she ever found out. You better handle that.”

Jack nodded his understanding of the warning. Rumlow was right. He shouldn’t have involved himself in the situation then, and part him regretted bringing it up now. But for as wrong as it might have been, he still believed he did the right thing. And it actually felt a little good to finally tell someone what he did and get it off his chest. Unfortunately, the relief was short lived, trading one guilt for another, and Jack was left trying to think how to break the news to Allison.

Nov 2011

“Fuck it,” he said, under his breath.

Jack was the last one to rise from his seat. The debrief was finished and everyone had been dismissed to call it a night. From the side of his eye, he’d been watching Allison. She was slow to leave, bullshitting with Rogers for a minute about plans for the next night. When they’d settled on seeing a movie, they split up. Allison was a few seconds behind, delayed by going back to her seat at the table behind Rollins to pick up her notebook and phone. The timing worked out perfectly that she was the last one out of the room ahead of him.

“Hey, Addams,” Jack said after her. Allison turned in the doorway and raised her brow to say he had her attention and he sighed, before asking, “You got a minute?”

“Yeah,” she shrugged and took a step back in to the room, letting the door shut behind her. 

He thought he was ready, but he lost his nerve, saying instead, “I wanted to check in with you about Rogers.” 

“Yeah. Sure,” she nodded. “It’s going good. Conversations are comfortable. Things about work are about SHIELD. Nothing worrisome there. His home life is pretty stable. He's done furnishing his apartment; doing things around town. I know it’s only been a few months, but I think he’s settled in.” She nodded. “It’s good.”

“Good,” he nodded, stalling. “Good.” Rollins wasn’t quite sure how to proceed. He decided a direct approach was probably best, saying, “Listen, Al...about your fiancé...”

“Yeah?” she warily invited, more than a bit surprised by the turn the conversation took, wondering what he could have to say on the matter and pocketing her hands behind her to try and come off as unconcerned. 

“I thought you should know-“ Jack stopped, searching for a polite way to break the news. He swept his head, starting again, “Look, Al...the reason he left is, he was cheating on you.”

Allison blinked, her lips parting slowly, stunned. She recovered to disagree, “No. No, he left becau-“

“Strickland saw him,” he cut in to assure her. “Mick, too. That night the Wolf had dinner at the Jefferson. He was there,” he nodded. “We all three saw him. He was having dinner with some brunette.” It took a second, but Jack thought he recalled her name was, “Chloe, or something like that.” He shook his head, telling her, “She didn’t know about you, either.”

Allison shook her head, insisting, “He said he wanted to go home. H- He said he missed his friends and-“

“And it was too much moving to DC,” Rollins nodded along, finishing for her. “He was supposed to be out of town, Brian said.” Jack shook his head. “But he wasn’t. He was at the Jefferson, with her. And he was waiting for you when you got home that night. He’d come home early from his trip to tell you. It wasn’t your fault. He missed his friends and his old job. He probably stayed at a hotel that night, to give you some space. Moved out the next day.”

She let go of the side of her lip she’d bitten to question, “How do you know all that?”, still hoping Brian or Mick had told him.

Jack sighed, his head dropping for a moment, before he looked her in the eye and admitted, “Because I told him to tell you all those things.” He saw the subtle flinch in her expression. “I went over, called him out in front of the girl, and told him how it was gonna be. Told him what to say, to try and make it easy on you. He didn’t have the nerve to try the alternative.” 

“You _told_ him?” she incredulously checked. “And then what? You _threatened_ him?”

“Brian had his finger on the trigger,” he explained. “Mick, I think, probably would’ve torn him apart right then, if I hadn’t told Kurt what was good for him and sent him out before you showed up. I know it wasn’t my place, but-“

“No,” she firmly interrupted, “it wasn’t.” Jack swallowed, his weight shifting uncomfortably at seeing the dampness coming to her eyes, as she told him, “You had _no_ right. ...Jesus Christ. What wer- Did you even stop to consider, for _one_ second, what you were doing?”

Jack nodded, acknowledging his fault and apologetically saying, “We were trying to protect you. Nobody wanted you to walk into that dining room and see that.”

It was quiet for a long moment. Allison pressed her lips together, folding her arms across herself, a dozen different thoughts running through her head all at once. “Why tell me this, now?” she asked, her eyes raking up and down him suspiciously. 

Rollins took a deep breath. “Because you deserve to know the truth,” he told her. 

Allison nodded, turning her eyes up to the ceiling and inhaling a steadying breath. “Why would you do that?” she pressed. “Why would you-“

The crack in her voice that made her stop was like a punch in the gut for Jack. He already felt bad enough for doing this so late after the fact and doing it at work, but now it stirred up his guilt again. A sympathetic frown came to the side of his mouth and he matter of factly told her, “Because we take care of our own. If there’s something I can do to protect my people, I’m gonna do it.” He nodded his understanding that, “You have every right to be pissed. I don’t think any of us’ll apologize for what happened that night, but I am sorry to upset you now. We were just trying to do what we thought was right. I just...thought you should know.”

Her lips pressed back together tightly and Allison nodded, as she inhaled slowly. She didn’t know what else to say. She was conflicted. Part of her was furious at the violation of her personal life and privacy for what he had done. Another part was heartbroken all over again and mad at Kurt for a whole new set of reasons. 

“Okay,” she quietly said.

She nodded again and turned to keep on her way through the door. Jack watched her walk away, letting the door shut between them, torn between his instinct to go after her and see that she was okay and his understanding that she needed some time to process what he’d just told her. After a long moment, he left the briefing room to head to his office and get his things to leave for the night.

“Fuck,” he muttered, shaking his head.

Nov 2011

“Well, I told her,” Rollins unhappily announced, swinging the door to Rumlow’s office shut behind him the next morning. “Hope you’re happy now, you prick.”

Brock kept his attention down on the paperwork on his desk. “Indescribably,” he dryly said, as Jack dropped into one of the chairs in front of the Commander’s desk. Brock looked up, eyeing Jack for a moment, before asking, “Are you gonna mope around all fuckin’ day about it, or what?” Rollins leveled his eyes at him and Rumlow raised his hand from his elbow to point at Jack, telling him, “You did this to yourself.”

“I didn’t do shit,” Rollins groused.

Brock leaned back in his chair, assuring him, “You did. You could’ve ignored it. It’s not your place to get involved in your subordinate’s personal life like that.”

“You would’ve just let it happen?” Jack incredulously questioned. “You’d have let her walk in and see _that_? While she’s on assignment, you’d have let her find out, like that, and maybe compromise the-“

“She’s a professional, Jack,” he reminded him. “I have no doubt an officer of her experience couldn’t have kept her shit together and performed her duties admirably, until such time that she was relieved from post or the detail was secure.”

“I was just trying to-“

“Watch out for your people,” Brock finished for him, with a nod. “I know. But there was a line and you crossed it. And this is the consequence.”

Frustrated all over again, Jack leaned into the arm of the chair, putting his elbow down and rubbing his hand across his chin. “I did what I thought was right,” Jack argued. “And Mickelson and Strickland agreed. She didn’t need to see that. She didn’t deserve that.”

“You let your personal feelings get in the way, Jack,” Rumlow shook his head. “Christ,” he muttered. “I knew it’d be a mistake bringing her onboard.”

“Bullshit,” Rollins scowled, dropping his hand. “There were no personal feelings involved. This was business.”

The Commander starded for a moment. “None?” he challenged.

Jack took a second to consider, before answering, “No.”

“No?” he questioned. He cocked up a brow, positing, “You mean to tell me, if it were somebody’s wife sitting there, you’d have told that bitch to go fuck off? You’d have done the _exact_ same thing, if it were one at these guys’ wives?

He swept his head, insisting, “I was trying to maintain the integrity of the detail. Working with the Wolf is complicated enough. We didn’t need an emotionally compromised oper-“

Brock raised a hand to stop him. “Alright. Fine,” he conceded. “But you have an emotionally compromised operator now. What are you gonna do about it?”

With a reluctant sigh, Jack admitted, “I don’t know. I told her. What else am I supposed to do?”

“Given the circumstances,” Brock reasoned, “I think you’ve probably done enough.” He closed the folder on the desk, picking it up and leaning to pass it across the desk to Jack. “I’m sending you out to Camp Henry for four days.”

Peeking under the cover of the folder, Rollins checked, “Some kind of punishment?”

“You’ll leave late Wednesday with some of the Special Forces guys,” Brock explained. “Hammer Industries is doing some weapons demos out there, starting on Thursday. You’ll represent STRIKE, instead of me. See if there’s any new toys we can’t live without. Does that sound like a punishment to you?”

“Not really,” Jack chuckled, closing the folder after skimming the travel authorization form inside.

“Forget about this Addams thing for a few days,” Rumlow told him, flipping his hand to wave away the problem. “She’ll get over it, or she’ll hate you like half the guys in the Division do. But at least she’ll have a good reason. Either way, nothing you can do about it.”

Jack agreed, with a nod. He could catch up with some friends stationed at the SHIELD Mohave training center, play with some new equipment, blow some shit up, and get paid for it. Putting the width of a whole country between him and Addams for a few days was probably a good idea, anyway.


	9. Chapter 9

Nov 2011

“Commander.”

Jack stopped, mid-stride, and turned over his shoulder to see who had called out to him. Addams was coming up from behind him. He moved to the side of the hallway, making way for a few agents behind him to pass, while he waited for her. Rollins took in a slow, deep breath through his nose, curious to see how this was going to go. He wouldn’t blame her if she hit him. Wouldn’t write her up, or anything else for it, either.

With a single nod, he greeted, “What can I do for you, Lieutenant?”

“Permission to speak freely, Sir?” 

He wasn’t sure what he was setting himself up for, but, nevertheless, he consented with another nod. “Granted.”

She waited, her eyes tracking someone passing by, before she spoke up. “I wanted to thank you, Sir.”

“For what?” he wondered, folding his arms comfortably, but still waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“For what you told me the other day,” she said, a subtle undercurrent of uneasiness in her answer that Jack assumed was for having the conversation in a semi-busy corridor. “About what you did.”

Jack bowed his head, with a slow sweep, admitting, “I’d hesitate to say what I did is worthy of thanks, all things considered.”

“In its own fucked up kind of way,” she conceded, tipping up a shoulder and tilting her head, “it is. Probably saved me a lot of trouble down the road.”

“That’s all we were trying to do,” he nodded, and Allison did the same.

“I know,” she said, with a weak grin. “I gave it a lot of thought. Talked it over with Brian and Mick and... And I appreciate it, Sir. I’m sure it wasn’t an easy decision to get involved.”

“On the contrary,” Jack differed, with a smirk, “new guy to the team or not, Addams, nobody fucks with my people. Besides, it’s always a good day at work when I get to make somebody my bitch.”

Allison couldn’t help the snort that escaped her. She quickly tried to straighten her face and posture, but she wasn't able to completely erase the grin she knew he saw. “Well, thank you, anyway, Sir,” she offered, with a small and humble nod.

“You’re welcome,” he grinned. Allison squared herself and gave a salute as a request to leave. Rollins gave his permission, by returning the motion. “Good day, Lieutenant.”

“Good day, Commander,” she replied, making a crisp about face to head back the way she’d came.

Around the first corner in the hall, and out of sight of Rollins, Allison let out a heavy exhale. That had gone about as well as she thought it would. Despite having had a few days to talk to Strickland and Mickelson and work through things on her own, Allison knew it was going to be an awkward discussion, considering who she was having it with.

Odd as it might be, Allison had a new appreciation for Rollins now. Although rank and decorum made the whole situation thoroughly uncomfortable, it gave her a new perspective. There was a level of camaraderie developing, since she and the others had come back to DC. A vague friendship forming through nights out at Barny’s and a few poker games. Allison surprised herself when she considered Rollins had more depth to him than just being an exceptional soldier and leader, and might actually be a decent guy, in spite of his hard-ass reputation. She only hoped that the weakness she’d shown, letting her emotions almost get the better of her in front of him, hadn’t ruined his professional opinion of her.

Nov 2011

“Lady and gentlemen,” Rumlow called over the din in the room, walking up to the podium at the head of the briefing room, “let’s lock it up!”

Delta’s Second Squad came to order, settling in quickly as the Commander wasted no time getting down to business. Allison swiveled in her chair to face front, pulling a pen from the slender pocket of her sleeve, ready to take notes. Next to her, Mickelson yawned, sinking into his seat and stretching his arm out to the table to be able to write with the least amount of enthusiasm and effort he could offer. On her left, Rogers sat up straight, paying close attention. Allison grinned at the difference 3:30 in the morning could make between two people.

“6 hours ago,” Rumlow began, “a plane carrying the US Ambassador-at-Large to Columbia, Jeffery Schroeder, crash landed near the Venezuelan border, here,” he noted, as the screen behind him showed a red mark on a satellite map of the northern border of Columbia, “in this area near the Rio Eusebio. Local resources are either incapable of reaching the crash site or untrustworthy. Flip a coin.

“The Ambo was traveling with a six man company of security and staff,” he advised, “en route to a conference in the Emirates when the pilot radioed a mayday after a possible lightning strike of the aircraft. The area the plane went down is particularly known for cartel activity. Radio contact was lost with the plane after it dropped from radar. Assuming all souls on-board survived the crash, including crew on the plane, our count for recovery is 10.”

Rumlow continued, as the map image shifted. “Fire Team Bravo will be inserted into the area here, locate the downed bird, assess any injuries for survivors, and extract them back to the LZ. Alpha will insert here,” he went on, the image changing again, “in between town and the ingress to the crash site to run interference with anyone coming to poke around. Secondary objective for this mission will be the recovery of any deceased US citizens, if possible. Two additional medics will be detailed with the squad, to assist with stabilizing any victims.

“Load out for tropical climes,” he ordered. “This should be a quick in and out, but don’t get cocky. We’re also not fighting any war on drugs, today. Get in, get the Ambo, and get the fuck out. If we cross any local cartels, anticipate small arms and light weapons and get them out of our way.” Rumlow closed the file in front of him. “Wheels up in 20 minutes.”

...

On their jet, Rollins handed out specific assignments for his fire team. Strickland, Emery, and Addams would secure the LZ with him. The others would move in to the jungle to locate the crash site and any survivors. Emery and Strickland covered the north and west from the front of the Quinjet, while Allison and Jack watched the south and east from the rear. The sun was rising. It would make the search and recovery easier, but it also made them all easier to find.

Allison checked her watch, and Jack noticed. Panning his gaze over the treeline, he joked, “Got somewhere to be?”

She snorted, giving a sweep of her head. “Just thinking about how soon I can crawl back in to bed,” she told him.

Rollins hummed to himself, studying the trees ahead of them. He opened his mic, deciding, “I don’t like waiting in the open like this. Move the perimeter into the treeline.”

“ _Copy that_ ,” Emery confirmed, as Jack tipped his head for Addams to start walking.

They stopped just inside the edge of the trees. Getting out of the shadows and the odd glares from the rising sun in the clearing gave them a better view of whatever might be moving in the jungle around them. They set up so they each had half of the jungle to watch, with the LZ behind them. The rescue team radioed that they were within a half mile of the crash site.

“Making good time,” Allison quietly noted, taking a knee to minimize her silhouette.

“So far, so good,” he cautiously agreed.

Allison settled against a tree behind her, finding a comfortable way to kneel with her rifle resting on her bent up knee. She glanced over her shoulder at Rollins. Something had been bothering her about their first conversation about her fiancé, but Allison hadn’t had the nerve to ask about it. But ever since, she felt like she was walking on eggshells around Rollins. 

It was quiet for a moment, before she took advantage of the only real time she would have alone with Rollins to check, “Everything’s good, Commander, right?”

A wrinkle of confusion came to Jack’s brow and he turned his chin over his shoulder to ask, “What?”

She was still keeping watch of her area of responsibility, but he could see enough of her face to catch the wince in her expression before she explained, sounding a little embarrassed, “The other day- when you told me about my, uh, _former_ fiancé...I admit, I was a little caught off guard. I don’t usually...display such emotion at work. And, uh...”

“Spit it out, Addams,” Rollins told her, panning his gaze around his half of the trees.

“I don’t want you to think that, being a woman, I’m not capable of controlling my-“

“Lieutenant,” he interrupted, “if the next words out of your mouth are going to be any kind of bullshit apology about having a natural reaction to a proverbial kick in the balls, I am going to be sorely disappointed.” He looked over his shoulder again. “And _that_ would be the only reason I’d be judging you.” Jack turned back around, adding, “For fuck’s sake, somebody tells you they broke up your engagement, you’d have to be some kind of psychopath not to be a little put out.

“I think your service record is proof enough that you know how to handle your shit,” he assured her. “Everybody’s entitled to a bad day. Now, I’m going to presume that’s all that needs to be said on the matter.”

Allison pressed her lips together against a small grin, nodding to herself. “Thank you, Sir,” she told him.

Jack grinned to himself, pleased to hear the lighter tone in her voice again. “So, yeah,” he said, “to answer your question, everything’s good.”

Nov 2011 

“Hey,” Alison smiled. She opened the door wide, stepping back and waving him in. “C’mon in.”

Rollins noted a kind of hurriedness to her movements, watching her shut the door and walk into the living room ahead of him, and he checked his watch, wondering, “M’I early?”

“No. Right on time,” she assured him. “Got home a little late. Running a bit behind.” 

His gaze wandered over the apartment, looking left into the living room off the foyer and then down the hall to the right he assumed, based on the number of doorways he saw, went to the guest bathroom and a bedroom or two, meandering a couple steps further in. Allison met him again, relieving him of the pair of six-packs of longnecks he’d brought, taking them into the kitchen entrance ahead of him. He peeked in, as she was just shutting the refrigerator after stashing the beer.   
  
“Make yourself at home,” she distractedly said, scooping up the mail on the counter by the stove to straighten to a neat pile to put on the small table for two tucked into the unused space of the corner of the long kitchen. “Bathroom’s to your right,” she added, coming back to the hall and turning the corner for the living room. 

He shifted, following into the room after her and taking a better look at the large room. Couch, love seat, and arm chair, all matching, boxing in the area ahead of the television mounted on the wall over a modern fireplace and narrow mantle cut into the wall and surrounding a large coffee table and area rug. The art was understated, yet appealing, like the rest of the space. Prints from famous nature photographers in sleek black frames on the walls and books, small trinkets, and mementos pleasantly arranged on a set of built-in shelves near the wide, floor to ceiling windows. 

To his right, the dining room had a set of narrow French doors out to a small balcony and another doorway in to the kitchen. The same contemporary styling carried over from the living room. The table for six was long enough to make use of the two extra chairs tucked in the corners on either side of the wide window. On the table, poker chips and a box of cards, a few bowls of snacks, and a stack of plates and paper napkins were waiting for company.

The apartment seemed too big, for just her, judging by the look he got down the hallway off the foyer. He had to remind himself that someone was missing. She’d come to DC with a fiancé. From the looks of things, she’d done a good job of removing any traces from that life from her sight or anyone else’s.

“Here,” she said, taking back his attention, as she passed him a handful of books she’d been gathering up from the coffee table. “Hide these in the closet in the office, please. Down the hall, second door on the right.”

“Sure,” Jack agreed, turning the stack in his hand to read the spines of the library books, noting aloud, “Hero Lost: The Incredible Story of the Discovery of Captain Steve Rogers and The Valkyrie. Steve Rogers: The Man The World Forgot. Project Rebirth and the Making of A Hero.” He cocked up a brow, teasing, “A little light reading?” 

Allison finished moving one of the extra dining chairs up to the table, looking up with an embarrassed grin and titter to excuse, “Yeah, uh, research.” She went back to work, crossing the room to move the last chair to the table. “Pretty sure the librarian thinks I’m a stalker.” 

“Well,” he shrugged, with a thoughtful pout and a subtle raise of the books in his hand, “if the shoe fits...” 

“Need I remind you who gave me the assignment to get close to him?” she countered. They both looked back to the hall, hearing the knock on the door. Allison came back through the room, quickly taking the books off Rollins’ hands, telling him, “Get the door. I’ll take care of these.” as she hurried down the hall. 

Jack went back into the foyer, opening the door to let Dennison in. He pointed Will and the pizza boxes in his hands ahead, telling him, “Kitchen’s through there.” 

“Hey, Will,” Allison smiled, coming back down the hall. 

“Nice place you got here,” he smiled back, walking ahead of her into the kitchen. “I see why you didn’t want us heathens over here before.” 

“Yeah,” she smirked, “had to childproof it before you guys could come in.” 

If truth were told, she’d run out of plausible excuses to keep them away. It was only fair that she take a turn at hosting poker night. She wasn’t one to keep up sentimental photos. What there had been were of just her and Kurt. After the engagement was broken off, the pictures weren’t replaced. She kept family photos in an album in her bedroom closet. Nothing was ever on display to link her to her family. It kept people from being curious, without a visual cue to make them think to ask.

She’d just been reluctant to let new people into her home. Always had been, preferring to try to keep as much of work and home life separate as she could for Kurt’s sake and for her own privacy. Even Rogers had only been over a couple of times. Mickelson and Strickland had been with her for years now, though. The trio enjoyed a bond and comfort that let her invite them into her home quite easily. But she was ashamed to say it took awhile to be sure she could trust her new teammates on Delta to let them in. 

One by one, the others arrived, bringing beer and whiskey to help ease any financial losses they may suffer at the table. Rollins noted the casual hug Rogers gave Addams at the door, when he arrived, silently approving of how well her “research” appeared to be paying off. With everyone in their seats, food and drink at hand, and the trash talking begun by the time the first hand was dealt, Allison began to relax, wondering what she thought she ever had been so worried about in the first place. 

Nov 2011

“If you caught me on my knees in front of a woman,” he cocked up a brow and swept his head, “that’s not what I’d be doin’.”

Jack smirked into his beer, more than a little pleased with himself for the ruckus his comment caused. Around the table, his friends oo’d and laughed. The commotion was suddenly practically halved, when, from behind him, Rollins heard Allison quip, “Ya ever walk into a room and get the feeling you should have come in either 5 seconds sooner or 5 seconds later, but you’re not sure which?”

“’Bout time you showed up,” Eric halfheartedly scolded, making a show of checking his watch.

“I'm right on time,” she said, scooting between the chair backs and the wall of Mickelson's dining room. Taking a seat at the table, she wondered, “What’d I miss?”

“Greer’s thinking about proposing to Shelly,” Rumlow spoke up. “We were just talking him out of it.”

“Don’t listen to them,” Allison rolled her eyes, giving Greer’s elbow an encouraging nudge with her own. 

“And Rollins was just affirming his allegiance to deviant behavior and the bachelor life, when you came in,” Mick chuckled.

Allison quirked up a brow, catching on to what Jack had been talking about as she walked in to join them. “Ahh, I see,” she nodded, feeling a hint of embarrassment to be the only girl in the group, considering the subject matter, and realizing she should have come in to the conversation 5 seconds later. “I’m gonna need a drink to get through this one,” she decided, standing back up to go to the kitchen.

The men all chuckled, as Allison crossed the room for the kitchen doorway. She met Eric’s wife on her way out with a pair of beer bottles in each fist to take to the guys. Julie broke into a wide smile, stopping to peck a kiss at the air near Allison’s cheek, as they passed each other. “Didn't hear you come in,” Julie called after her, from the other room.

Allison opened the refrigerator, grabbing a beer for herself and turning back to rejoin the others. “Just got here,” she answered, loud enough to be heard.

In the other room, Julie stood leaning her hip into her husband’s side, as she twisted off the cap of his beer and took a sip for herself. Mick playfully swatted at the side of her leg and she handed his drink over, with an unapologetic grin. She kissed the top of Eric’s head, before turning out his arm to put her hands on Greer’s shoulders and say to his ear, “Don’t listen to these idiots.”

“That’s what I said,” Allison seconded.

Julie’s face lit up, when she straightened up and saw Al on her way back to her seat. “You should come with us,” she decided, pointing at Allison.

“Who's us and where are we going?” she laughed.

“With some girls from work, downtown for cocktails and dancing with pretty men,” Julie told her.

“There will be _no_ pretty men,” Eric firmly said, looking down the length of his arm and the sternly pointed finger at his wife.

“Yes, there will,” Julie promised in a whisper, winking at Allison with an exaggerated nod.

Allison lifted her palms in a kind of apologetic shrug. “Not really dressed for going out,” she noted, sweeping a hand down the front of her v-neck tee and jeans, before slipping back in to her seat.

She gave Allison a quick once over, telling her, “We'll find a top to dress up those jeans and you can borrow a pair of heels.”

“Nope,” Dennison spoke up. “Can’t have her. It’s poker night.”

“ _Can_ have her,” Julie argued. “We’ve been friends longer than you’ve been having these games.”

“Claimed!” Strickland declared, as Jack chuckled behind his drink of beer.

Pointing at Allison, Brock deadpanned, “Stay in that seat, Lieutenant. That’s an order.”

“We need her to round out the table,” Rollins seconded, throwing in the casual note to try and keep from losing her company.

“You need a night out,” Julie declared. “Come on.” She flipped her hand to beg Allison along. “We’ll have a couple drinks and find you a nice piece of ass to buy you breakfast in the morning. You need to get your groove back.”

“Sold,” Allison agreed, lifting her beer to the idea.

“I don’t wanna hear about you finding hookups for Al,” Mick winced. “Christ, it’s like you’re pimping out my sister.”

“Booo,” Dennison loudly complained.

“Are we booing Al ditching us,” Strickland wondered, “or that we’re jealous ‘cause none of us are gettin’ laid tonight sittin’ around here?”

“Both,” Jack chuckled, splitting the deck of cards to shuffle. 

“You guys should see if Cap’s home yet, to fill my seat,” Allison suggested, patting Eric on the shoulder as she passed.

...

“Gah,” Cephas retched. “What did you do to Al?!”

“Are you wearing makeup?” Greer squinted. 

“Cap’s on his way,” Rollins noted, putting aside his phone, although the table was apparently too distracted by Allison’s return to acknowledge him.

“Look at you, all hussied up,” Dennison smiled.

Jack looked over his shoulder, tracking Allison and Julie coming back in to the room. Allison had changed into a shimmering, sleeveless top. Besides a pair of heels, she’d borrowed a few long necklaces and a bracelet in a matching gold tone. Rollins’ let his eyes take a leisurely run up and down her, when she turned her attention to scolding Cephas with a smack into his arm.

“You guys have fun, but not too much fun,” Eric warned, turning his chin up to meet his wife’s lips for a quick kiss. 

There was an uncoordinated chorus of goodbyes, as the women headed out of the room. Jack heard their conversation fade down the hall and disappear as the front door shut behind them. He reached for his beer, taking a swig to wash away the idea that he had any room to be jealous of the idea of Addams going out to find a hook up.


	10. Chapter 10

Dec 2011

“Cephas,” Jack called. “Where’s my weather update?”

“They’re working on it,” he promised, adjusting the headset on his ears.

Jack was impatient, making his way forward in the cabin. They’d been watching the tropical storm gaining momentum overnight. Now, flying in to Panay, the storm had turned into a full fledged hurricane. Checking his watch, they were ahead of their ETA, with the tailwind’s help. The Quinjet could take the beating in the air, but he had some doubts about their ability to be inserted and extracted on the ground. It was a real possibility they would have to scrub the mission.

“They got a Plan B for us yet?” Rogers wondered, into his headset.

“No,” Jack shook his head, turning his attention from looking over Cephas’ shoulder at the monitor to down the row of jump seats at the Captain.

“Plan A it is,” Mickelson shrugged. “Flying in to the middle of a hurricane,” he sarcastically mused, nodding to himself. “That’s a good plan. That’s a real good plan.”

Addams reached up to smack the back of her hand into his shin. Eric gently kicked the toe of his boot into her hip in retaliation. Jack smirked, seeing her still stretched out on the deck, trying to get some shut eye.

Jack looked up toward the cockpit. Rain beat against the glass and the view outside was nothing but an inky sky occasionally lit by streaks of bright blue. The pilots were on instruments and manual controls. They deserved a drink for even attempting to fly them in. This wasn’t part of the training or SOP for SHIELD airmen. But an asset’s cover had been blown and they needed an extraction ASAP. If they didn’t get him out as planned, he’d probably be dead by the end of the day. Flying out into the storm was a risk Jack’s fire team and these volunteer pilots were willing to take to get him home.

“Boss,” Cephas spoke up, drawing Jack’s attention. “Weather update’s in.”

Rollins took the tablet Cephas offered, glancing over the imaging the forecasters at SHIELD had mapped out. He walked it up to the cockpit, leaning an elbow into the back of the co-pilot’s chair to steady himself in the turbulence. He held the tablet out, checking, “Think we can pull this off?”

The pilot took the tablet to study for a minute, before handing it over to his partner. “We can get in,” Nealon nodded, “but once we hit the eye, you’ll only have about an hour on the ground, tops. If your guy’s not there or ready to go, it could be a little rough getting out. If you can’t make that window, we may be stuck on the ground ‘til the storm breaks, and that’s not a place we wanna be.”

“We’ll try and be quick,” Jack promised, with a reassuring grin, taking back the tablet.

“You guys might wanna buckle up,” the co-pilot announced through everyone’s headset. “We’re approaching the eyewall. It’s gonna get a bit bumpy.”

“It hasn’t _been_ bumpy?” Mickelson quipped, much to the amusement of the rest of the team.

Rollins passed back the tablet for Cephas to secure at the workstation again, on his way back into the cabin. “Wakey wakey,” he told Allison, giving a tap of the side his boot on the top of her helmet. Addams scrunched up her face and groaned, as he threatened, “You got five seconds to AIS, or I’m doing it for you.”

“I kinda wanna see that,” Strickland said, as he tightened up the straps of his seat’s harness over his shoulders.

“Me, too,” Greer chimed in.

Allison snickered, sitting up. “Alright. Alright,” she groused. “Who’s a girl gotta kill to get some sleep around here?”

“Apparently, that guy,” Dennison reasoned, jerking his thumb towards Rollins sitting down beside him.

“You're welcome to try,” Jack offered, hooking his arms into the straps of his seat, “when we get home.”

“I got 50 bucks on Al,” Eric piped up.

“Oo,” Dennison winced, shaking his head. “Don’t ever bet against the Commander.” 

“He doesn’t lose,” Greer finished. “Ever.”

“Besides that, he’ll make you’re life a living hell for even trying him,” Cephas warned. 

“First time for everything,” Addams winked at Mickelson, and Jack quietly chuckled.

“Put your game faces on,” Rollins told everyone. “When we hit the ground, we have one hour to locate, secure, and evac the asset, before the eyewall hits us again- at best. Every minute we don’t waste dicking around means a smoother ride home. Stay sharp, move fast, be safe.

“Remember, a hurricane went in ahead of us,” he warned. “There’s going to be all kinds of debris and hazards in our way. If we encounter any civilian injuries, we push on. Our priority is the safe recovery and extraction of the asset. Understood?”

The team’s collective “Yes, Sir.” sounded in stereo in the cabin and Quinjet’s local comms in everyone’s headset and Rollins took another look out the cockpit window. He checked his watch again and panned his gaze around the cabin at his team giving a last inspection to their weapons and gear. Nealon announced their ETA over the channel. Rollins gave a nod to Cephas to update the controller back in the TOC monitoring the mission. The jet hit a particularly rough spot in the storm, sending a shudder through the airframe that put a jarring rattle through everything not tied down, and everyone.

“Still wanna lay on the floor, smartass?” Jack smirked toward Allison.

“Nah,” she grinned. “I’m good up here. Thanks.”

...

On the ground, the world was eerily quiet. Walking off the end of the jet ramp, Allison took a moment to look up at the blue sky above them. She shook her head at the strangeness of being in the peaceful middle of the violent storm, falling in to step with the others as they headed into the city. Due to the damage the storm had caused, the closest place to land was about a mile outside of town. Trees were twisted with fallen power lines and trash and all manner of debris littered the streets.

The team moved carefully, following Dennison’s directions as he navigated the way with the GPS mounted on his forearm. The city seemed largely deserted. Those that could leave evacuated ahead of the storm. But Allison saw faces peeking out from behind boards over windows and a few people were moving quickly through the streets to pick through damaged store fronts or shore up their homes while the storm had taken a break. They got wary looks, but no one bothered the SHIELD operators.

The coordinates Dennison had led them to a four story office building that the asset had ducked into before it had been tightly shuttered from the ground floor up to the second. A couple windows above that had been broken out, but there was no way to access them and no one saw any signs of life there. The team split up to circle around the building and try to find a way in. Testing locks and chains on boards and doors, they came across a side entrance that Allison’s half of the team found and Waterson managed to wedge open just wide enough for her to squeeze through, after removing her vest.

With her weapon-mounted flashlight lit, Allison started clearing the building room by room, looking and calling out for their asset. Outside, Rollins and the rest of the team regrouped and set up a perimeter. The pilot on the Quinjet radioed, advising the team that an updated forecast gave the search and rescue team 20 minutes to get back to the plane, before the eyewall hit the LZ, and Jack raised Allison for a status check.

“I got him,” she said into her mic, tipping her head for the man to follow her.

Allison lead him up to the roof. The agent was too big to make it back through the door she’d come through, but Mick had passed her pack in behind her and she had a line to rappel off the roof with. It would take an extra couple of minutes, but it was the easiest way to get out. On the roof, the asset stepped in to a harness, while Addams tied off the rope.

Below, Jack was keeping a close eye on his watch. He looked up the side of the building, hearing the slap of the excess rope hitting the wall as it fell. The asset was at the edge of the roof, hooking in to the line. Allison watched over the side, as the agent descended. She looked up and across the rooftops to the direction they’d come. She could see the darker sky of the back edge of the storm and checked her watch. They’d be cutting it close. Allison took up some slack in the rope and looped it around her to drop without a harness, figuring seconds counted.

On the ground again, Rollins cocked a brow at her in apparent irritation, as she unwound the rope. “Next time, use a harness.”

Allison ducked her head at the firmly delivered correction. “Just trying to save some time.”

“A 4 story fall will still fuck up your day,” he pointed out. Jack took a quick look around to see everyone else was ready to move out, adding, “And it’ll ruin the pace of my exfil.”

“Yes, Sir,” she dutifully nodded.

“Let’s go,” Jack barked to his team.

...

Back at the Triskelion, Allison was grabbing her gear from the rack over her jumpseat. Most of the team was already deplaning with the asset they’d picked up. Rollins was one of the last ones to leave with her. She couldn’t help but notice a subtle downturn in his demeanor since the exfil.

“Hey...Boss,” she began, falling in behind him, as they walked down the ramp. He hummed to show she had his attention and she asked, “Everything alright?”

His jaw set a little forward, as he considered how to respond. “Everything went well,” he acknowledged, with a subtle nod. “We located the asset and made the LZ with a couple minutes to spare.” Allison nodded her agreement, as they trailed the others across the flight deck toward the fire proof hatch that led in to tower B. “So I guess that’s why I’m confused about why you used an emergency rappelling rig for your descent, instead of waiting to recover your harness and do it the way you were trained.”

“But I _am_ trained to rappel without a harness,” she noted, not without a hint of incredulousness.

Rollins stopped in the doorway to turn and see her. “And under what emergency circumstance were you operating in to use that training?” he questioned, his own tone with an edge of annoyance in it.

Allison blinked, surprised by the sharpness of his question. She shook her head, admitting, “Well, none, really. I was just trying to save time.”

“Good,” he nodded, “because, for a second there, I was worried I missed the gunfire, or some other risk to life and limb that necessitated or justified your actions. We had plenty of time,” he pointed out and turned to continue on his way.

“Yeah,” she said, becoming a little more indignant, “because we didn’t waste it on waiting for my gear to come back up.”

Jack immediately came to a halt and turned on her again. She had to stop short to keep from running into him, as he warned her, “Lieutenant, the next time you think you can save a minute by not following SOP... _don’t_.” He gave her a stern once over. “I got enough variables and bullshit to manage, running an op in the middle of a literal fuckin’ hurricane, to have to worry about you falling down the side of a four story building, because you thought saving 30 seconds was better than waiting for equipment to do it the right way. Unless it’s your goal in life to see if you can give me a stress-induced ulcer.”

She fumbled for a second, before she managed, “No.”

He gave a curt jut of his chin and carried on, leaving Allison behind and still dumbfounded for what he had to complain about. There was no hard and fast rule she’d violated. She made a spur of the moment decision and it had worked out exactly how she had calculated it would. Except for the mild dressing down it was getting her. That was unexpected.

Allison shook her head and started back down the hall again. “Didn’t know you cared,” she grumbled.

Jack spun on her again. “What was that, smartass?” he dared, just a few feet ahead of her. His patience was about spent, after trying to tamp down the flashes of anxiety he got anytime he watched Allison’s decent replayed in his head.

“Nothing,” she gulped, adding a quick, “Sir.”

He was standing in the middle of the hallway and Allison didn’t get the sense that she could just walk around him. She stood looking up at him and waiting, for what, she didn’t know. He looked her over and scoffed at her not having the nerve to repeat herself.

“If I hear one more word from you trying to excuse your recklessness today, before I get out of this building for the night,” he warned, “I’m going to ship you off to Camp McAllister for a week to run basic courses again with the agent recruits.”

Allison bristled at the threat, raking her eyes up and down him. “Oh, come on,” she argued. “I’ve been doing this shit for-“

“Is this it?” he asked, leveling his eyes at her. “Is this my ‘one word’, Lieutenant?”

“It’s several words, Sir,” she scathingly assured him, with an arrogant cock of her head. “I’m not going to stand here and have my experience and skills discounted, as if I-“

“I don’t know the kind of shit you used to get away with,” he interrupted, “while you and Echo were running around the Citadel, but around here, on my team, under my watch, half-assing it isn’t gonna fly. You’re not responsible when something goes wrong. _I_ am. And, if you didn’t know, that is the _least_ of the reasons why I care, Lieutenant...about _you_ or any of the rest of these chuckle fucks.” He saw the anger lessen a degree in her expression and he checked, “So, you still got that word for me?”

Allison’s jaw worked against itself for a moment, while he stared her down, before she answered, “No.”

Rollins made an about face and Allison let out a heavy exhale. He was a few strides ahead of her, as they both silently continued toward the elevator. They didn’t speak on the ride up to the 26th floor. She stood behind him in the queue for the Armory, while they waited to turn in their gear. They didn’t even exchange a look, as he passed her on his way out.

Allison ran into Mickelson on the 23rd floor, as Allison was headed down the hall toward the women’s locker room. He stopped her, smiling and already changed into his street clothes, asking, “Wanna hit up Barny’s? Jules is out for some girls night, or whatever, and the kids are with the sitter.”

“Sure,” she shrugged. Pointing down the hall, she told him, “Just let me change real quick and get my things. You wanna wait, or I’ll meet you there?”

“Meet me,” he said, pocketing his hands. “Brian’s coming. He’s already on the way.”

“Okay,” she nodded. “Great. I’ll see ya there.”

Allison walked a little faster. She was eager to get out of the building. The squad had debriefed on the return flight, to kill some time and hopefully not get home too late, so business for the day was already done for everyone but Rollins. She could use a drink, still irritated by Rollins’ complaint. Blowing off some steam with her Echo teammates was just what she needed.

At the bar, the trio took a small booth in the back. They drank and bullshitted about adjusting to life in DC again. Addams was relieved to have the sympathies of her friends for the most part, when she told them about the trouble Rollins had given her.

“He’s kind of a blowhard, sometimes,” Brian shrugged, “but I can see why he’d say it.”

Allison rolled her eyes, reluctantly admitting, “Maybe. ...But he didn’t have to be such a dick about it.”

“I could agree with him. I’d be sad, if you fell off a building and turned into a puddle,” Eric smiled, before finishing off his beer.

“Well, thank you,” she grinned, tilting her head and batting her eyes to exaggerate his sentiment.

“We’d all miss you,” Strickland seconded. “So, maybe we give the boss a pass, tonight.”

“Ugh,” Allison softly groaned. “Alright. Fine, I guess.”

“All the king’s horses and all the king’s men...” Mickelson quipped. 

“Couldn’t put little Aloysius back together again,” Brian finished, giving Allison’s cheek a pinch.

“Yeah yeah,” she muttered, leaning away from his reach.

“Besides,” Strickland considered, with a thoughtful tilt of his head, “isn’t this what we were worried about? Taking the transfer to Delta and fitting in? Didn’t we just want to know we’d be accepted as part of the team? I don’t think we have to worry. Him saying what he did kind of proves we’ve done it, don’t ya think? I think we’re okay.”

“Me, too,” Mick agreed. “It’s not like the way it was before, in Cali, but,” he nodded, “this feels good.”

Allison nodded, lifting her glass to say, “This is home, boys, for better or worse.”

“Welp,” Brian began, straightening up with a deep inhale, “I think it’s that time again.”

“Yeah,” Eric conceded, checking his watch. He reached over past Strickland to palm the bill and pull it over to him, announcing, “I’ll get this one.”

“No argument here,” Brian smiled, holding up his hands.

Allison pulled out a few bucks to leave for a tip on the table. While Mick settled the bill at the bar, she considered their conversation. She could see why Rollins would initially be mad, but she still couldn’t understand why he would make such a big deal of it, when nothing bad had happened. She told herself that Brian was right and the ass chewing she took was a sign they’d been accepted. Coupling that with how he had run off Kurt, Allison figured Rollins probably privately cared about his people more than he let on to them. When she had a fire team to lead herself, back in California with Echo, she knew how she herself had done the same thing. Allison shrugged off the rough end to the op, deciding not to let it bother her anymore.


	11. Chapter 11

Dec 2011

“Dropping off or picking up?” 

“Picking up,” Allison answered, as head of the transfer detail, stepping out ahead of her teammates and passing off a tablet to the uniformed man coming to meet them. “Transfer of Ilio Andrianakis for The Hague.” 

She glanced over to the tired voice coming up from behind the guard. She softly snorted to herself, seeing Barton sipping from a large mug she knew could only be coffee by the thin traces of dribble down the sides. He scratched at the back of his head, complaining, “A little early for a prisoner transfer, isn’t it?” 

“It’s oh-900,” Rogers gently informed him, with a friendly clap on the back as he went ahead of the transfer team to visit with the rest of the Avengers in the tower. He’d only been a hitchhiker for the ride to New York. 

“Fuck,” Clint muttered, checking his watch with a curious crease in his brow, “is it?” 

“Right this way,” the guard nodded, passing Allison back the tablet and turning with a gesture to lead the group out of the hanger and further into the tower to the detention area. 

“Waaait a minute,” Barton frowned. 

The fire team stopped, as the archer stepped forward, his eyes leveled as he beelined his way through the soldiers to Addams. He reached out, carefully hooking a finger from his free hand into the balaclava covering her over her nose to pull it down and show her face. 

“Thought that was you,” he grinned, tucking the mask under her chin. “Were you gonna hide in there the whole time?”

“Can’t get anything past you.” Allison shrugged into the hug he gave her, explaining, “Still, prisoner transfer details are _supposed_ to be unidentifiable to the bad guy, ya know. Masks, no patches...” 

“Good thing there’s no bad guys in here,” he quipped, and Allison snorted to herself for how little idea he had. 

“We’ll go grab Andrianakis,” Eric spoke up, giving Allison a soft smack on the arm as he nodded to their escort to keep on the way. 

“Ay, Mick,” Barton smiled, giving a small wave as the team started to move on. “Long time.” Mickelson waved back, just before the team hit the doors and disappeared into the building. Clint turned back to Allison. “Heard you guys were in DC.” He gave a tut and disappointed sweep of his head, saying, “Sucks what they did to Echo.” 

“You’re telling me,” she grumbled. 

“But you’re doin’ alright,” he smiled, lifting his mug to her. “Still with STRIKE, working with Cap. Glad you stuck it out.” 

“Me, too,” she nodded. “Nice to be home again.” 

“Man, it’s good to see you,” he beamed. “Been a long time since you came over to take out the trash. Who else made the trade? Anyone besides you and Mick?” 

“Strickland’s with us on the squad,” she was happy to report. “28 of us came back to DC.”

“Not bad,” he nodded along, with a thoughtful pout. He winked, adding, “But you got pick of the litter. Delta, baby. If there’s no Echo, Delta’s the place to be.” 

“Miss it, huh?” Allison figured, with a grin.

“Only sometimes,” Barton said. “Definitely don’t miss those early a.m. musters.” He tipped his head, pausing before a sip of coffee to reconsider, “Well, when I actually showed up on time.”

“How did they not kick you off the team, you lazy bum?” she laughed. 

“Beats the hell outta me,” he shrugged, taking his drink. “Hey,” he lit up, looking to his mug then to her. “Got time for a cup? Nat’s around here somewhere. She’d love to see ya.” 

“Not today,” she frowned. Allison jerked her thumb towards the jet on the landing pad behind her. “Got a schedule to keep.” 

“Next time you’re in town then,” Barton insisted. “Come up with Cap. We’re having a little get together for Natasha’s b-day, next month.” 

“Does she know that?” Allison quirked up a brow over an amused smile. 

“Nope,” he shook his head. A mischievous smile came to him, proudly adding, “She’s gonna hate it.”

Dec 2011

“You’re late. I was about to send out a search party.”

Allison shook off the cold, as Rogers shut the door behind her. “Traffic’s a bitch,” she explained. “Things are starting to refreeze and everybody always seems to forget how to drive in the snow. Not a good combination.”

He held out a hand, waiting for her to get her coat off. “Maybe we should’a just rescheduled,” he considered.

“Not on your life,” she assured him. Allison checked her watch, happily noting, “Still got time.”

“Well, if it’s too bad at the end of the night,” he told her, “you can always crash here.” Steve hung up her coat on the rack by the door, asking, “D’you eat?”

“A little while ago,” she nodded.

“Want some coffee, or something, to warm up?” he offered, walking around her to go into the kitchen.

“You know what we need?” she led him on and he shook his head. “Hot chocolate.”

Opening a cupboard door to check, Steve nodded, “We got that.”

“That’ll get us in the holiday spirit,” she grinned.

He pulled a canister of mix from one cupboard and opened another for a pair of mugs. “I thought eggnog was supposed to be the thing.”

Allison took the kettle off the stove and to the sink to fill. “Not this time,” she assured him. “You have to go completely wholesome with this one. Classic. This is my childhood we’re talking about here.”

Rogers chuckled. “I didn’t know it was so serious,” he said. “I thought it was just a cartoon.”

She stopped dead in her tracks, her mouth slacked open in complete offense. “How dare you, sir,” Allison scolded him. “You take that back, this instant.”

Laughing, he asked, “Why?”

Allison went back to the stove, turning on a burner to heat the water. “This isn’t just some _cartoon_ ,” she emphatically explained. “ _This_...is ‘A Charlie Brown Christmas’. This is Americana at its _finest_.”

He put his hands up in surrender. “Okay okay. I had no idea. I’m sorry,” he snickered.

She broke into a smile, settling her hip against the counter by the stove and folding her arms. “You’re gonna love it,” she promised him.

There was a pause, while Rogers got spoons out of the kitchen drawer and put a few dishes away to kill some time while the water heated up. When he was done putzing, he offered, “Hey, Al...I just wanna to say, thanks, for spending time with me, like this. I know it’s getting close to Christmas and you probably got other stuff you could be-“

“Nah,” she humbly smiled, waving him off. “Don’t worry about it. If I wasn’t here watching it with you, I’d be at home on the couch watching by myself. This way is much better.”

“Still,” he insisted, with a humble smile in the corner of his mouth, “I’m sure you could be spending time with your family.”

Allison loved going home for Christmas, when her mother was alive. The house was always decorated, inside and out. It was so cheerful and inviting. Now, there was a Christmas tree in the living room and some lights outside, but her father paid someone to put those up. There wasn’t much tradition left in the holiday, except dinner Christmas Eve and gifts in the morning. If Allison managed to not get a mission and stay in the States or had the holiday off, she’d meet her father for both. Other than that, she didn’t have any other family or plans to speak of. 

“Oh, this is _definitely_ better than that,” she promised, with an exaggerated nod. “Don’t sell yourself short, Rogers. You’re good company, kid,” she winked. “Besides, the holidays are for family _and_ friends, and it’s my personal mission in life to make sure you don’t miss out on any more good stuff. This is happening, buddy, whether you like it or not.”

Dec 2011

“Division Christmas party is this weekend,” Allison mentioned. 

“Uh-Huh.” 

Allison laughed at the Captain’s less than enthusiastic reply. She picked her knee up high to plant her foot and climb up on to the short wall of the Stead Park splash pad. The fountains were turned off months ago and for near sunset in winter, there weren’t any kids around for her to be a bad influence on. While Steve meandered beside her on ground level, Allison walked over the rises and dips in the wall, hands tucked in her pockets and grin on her face. 

“You don’t want to go?” she wondered, slowing to a stop on one of the low cuts in the concrete. 

Rogers shrugged, panning his gaze around. “I don’t know,” he muttered, turning his gaze up to her. “You goin’?” 

“Someone has to keep Mick away from the karaoke machine,” she deadpanned with a shrug, before cracking a smile again. “Hadn’t decided yet, actually. Probably, though. Get to see some of the people from the other teams I don’t see much.” 

“Yeah,” he agreed, not sounding entirely convinced. “There’s that.”

“The rest of the girls are going to be there,” Allison mentioned. “Fender, Odie, Penn, Junger... You could hang out with us.” She winked, telling him, “Think of what that’d do for your street cred.” 

“My street cred, huh?” he snorted. 

“Two words- chick. magnet,” she promised, with an exaggerated nod. He laughed, but didn’t seem convinced yet, so she noted “Anna, from the Hub, always has something nice to say bout you. Wink wink. Hint hint.”

“I’m still thinking about it,” Steve allowed, with a snort, if not a bit reluctantly. “Probably wouldn’t be so bad.” 

“Haven’t been,” she admitted. “Echo always did our own thing on the left coast. Heard it’s a good time, though.” She stretched out her leg, touching the toe of her shoe to his elbow, mischievously adding, “Open bar.” 

“I can’t get drunk,” he grinned. 

“So? Just think of how much fun it’ll be watching everyone who can,” Allison teased. 

“True,” he conceded, with a chuckle. 

“C’mon,” she urged, hopping down from the wall to stand in front of him. “Be my date,” Allison brightly offered. “That way I don’t look like a loser whose fiancé dumped her right before the holidays.” 

Steve tilted his head at her, cocking up an incredulous brow. “That’s not what happened,” he flatly reminded her. “And nobody’d think that anyway. Everybody likes you.” 

“Okay. That’s true,” she grumbled. “But, god damn it, I’m running out of ideas to try and get you to go.”

Rogers turned to start walking back and Allison fell in beside him. “Alright, fine,” he relented. “I’ll go with you.” Steve put up a finger to note, “But only ‘cause I don’t want to look like a loser.” 

“You do remember you’re Captain America, right?” Allison checked. 

His brow wagged up with a self-deprecating smirk, telling her, “You should’a seen me before the serum.” 

Dec 2011

Allison glanced back over her shoulder, aware suddenly that she was alone. 

“What?” she wondered, seeing Rogers stopped at the bottom of the steps to the door. 

He looked a little hesitant to ask, “Are you sure this is okay?” 

Her shoulders dropped a little, with a small sigh at his endearing concern. She gave him a warm grin, coming down a few steps to put one hand in his and wrap the other around his wrist, giving his arm a gentle tug to pull him along with her back up the steps. She curled her arm into the crook of his elbow, to keep him from bowing out again, as she reached across him to press the door bell button. 

“It’s fine,” she promised, giving him another smile. “Trust me.” 

A moment later, they heard the locks on the door clicking open and the handle turn. Allison smiled down at Mickelson’s oldest, Abigail, answering the door with a toothy smile and enthusiastic, “Happy New Year!”   
  
“Happy New Year, Abi,” Allison grinned in reply. She pointed a finger at the Captain, saying, “This is my friend, Steve.” 

“Hi,” the girl waved, polite but a little unsure. 

Steve grinned and waved back, saying hello with about as much confidence as Abi had had. The girl shuffled backward, pulling the door open with her and letting them in. Allison bent at the knee, letting the canvas bag from her shoulder down to the floor so she could shrug off her coat. Rogers took off his coat, giving an appreciative “thank you”, as Abi opened the door for the hall closet for him to hang it up. The gentlemanly Captain took Allison’s jacket, freeing her hands in time to catch the small child barreling down the hall just as she crashed in to Allison’s leg. 

“Ohh, my goodness,” Allison exaggeratedly groaned, bending down to pick up the little girl wrapped around her legs. “You’re getting too big for this,” she tutted, putting the girl down. She turned to Steve, giving the girl a pat on the head. “Abi’s little sister. Catie.” 

Steve waved at Catie, who was apparently too shy in front of him to do anything more than stare up at him with a pair of fingers hanging in a gaping smile. Abi grabbed Catie’s arm, tugging her along, as she said her mom was in the kitchen. Allison grabbed her tote and waved an arm, inclining her head for Steve to come along. They followed the little thunder of stamping footsteps from the girls, and Abi loudly announced Allison “and her friend” had arrived.

“Her friend?” Eric frowned, a deep line of unwelcome confusion in his brow as he watched Abi and Catie parading in through the doorway from the hall to the kitchen and out the one to the dining room. “Who the fu-” His expression brightened, surprised, and seemingly pretty relieved, to see Rogers with Allison. “Oh, hey,” he grinned. He gave the woman behind him, leaning down to peek in the oven, a pat on the ass, saying, “Babe, company.” She stood up to look and Eric introduced, “My wife. Julie. Jules, meet Steve Rogers.” 

Momentarily dumbfounded, Julie blinked and shook her head clear, coming around from behind the kitchen island to offer her hand, quietly marveling, “Oh, wow.” A mildly embarrassed laugh left her, as she shook hands with the super solider, excusing, “I’m sorry. I didn’t know we were having more company. I’d have-“ 

“No,” he insisted, letting go of her hand to put his to his chest in apology. “I-“ 

“I thought I’d bring him along to crash the party,” Allison spoke up, watching Mickelson come around the counter to shake Rogers’ hand hello. 

“No worries,” Mick shrugged, as Julie leaned in to peck a kiss at Allison’s cheek and wish her a happy new year. “The more the merrier, right?”

Allison had spent the last couple of New Year’s Eves with the Mickelson household. After they had the girls, Eric had given up on New Years parties out to enjoy the peaceful company of his family. Not having any family of her own in California, Allison had a standing invitation to join Mick and the girls for holidays. An offer she took them up on pretty frequently, even bringing her fiancé at the time along to a few events. 

She had become quite the fixture in Abi and Catie’s lives, babysitting them here and there when Eric and Julie had a date night or tagging along to help wrangle the kids at the zoo, or some other excursion Eric had promised to do when he was out of rotation and Julie had to work. Allison had become the unofficial aunt. Julie was an only child and Mickelson‘s older brother, Shane, lived in Germany for his job with the Army. They both left their extended family behind, when the assignment to Echo moved them out west.

“Brought the good stuff,” Allison announced, moving to put her bag on the counter. 

While Allison unpacked a pair of bottles of champagne for the adults and two of sparkling grape juices for the kids, Eric nudged Steve. “Watch out for the small one,” he quietly warned, tipping his head toward the other room and the laughing shrieks of his daughters at play. “If she figures out who you are, she’ll be climbing on you like a jungle gym.” 

“What?” Rogers laughed. 

“She’s been going through this phase,” Julie explained, taking the bottles from Allison to put in the fridge, “where all she wants to do is hang on you or be swung around.” 

“She’s killing my back,” Mick rolled his eyes. “If she finds out how strong you are, she won’t let you sit down all night.” 

“So, we’re totally trying to play up that she’s getting too big for that stuff,” Allison added, picking a baby carrot off a vegetable tray on the island. 

“Oh, I get it,” Steve nodded along. 

“She’s turning into a tomboy,” Julie grinned, sweeping her head. 

“Yeah,” Eric seconded, with a scrutinizing squint in one eye and a jut of his chin toward Allison. “Wonder where she’d pick that up from...” 

Allison snorted, shaking her head innocently. “Beats me.” 

“Hey,” Julie said, for her husband's attention. “Set another place at the table.” Julie turned to Steve and Allison, asking what she could get them to drink, while Eric called into the next room, telling Abi to put out another plate and utensils. Julie stopped, turning to Eric and putting her hands on her hips. “That’s not what I said.” 

“Not my job,” Mick casually replied, picking up an open bottle of beer for a swig before noting, “Abi‘s chore is to set the table this week.” 

“Good lord,” his wife muttered, rolling her eyes and trying not to smile. She pulled a dish towel off the handle of the oven door, snapping it at Mick, complaining, “You couldn’t just act like a functioning adult in front of company, just one time?” 

“What?” Mick shrugged, gesturing toward Steve with his drink still in hand. “He already knows.”   
  
“Yeah,” Steve agreed. “Curtain was pulled on that in, like, a day.” 

Julie gave the Captain a shrewd once over, cocking up a brow before she turned to Allison, deciding, “I like him.” She pointed a finger at him. “You can stay.” 

Rogers gave her an awkward grin, as Abi came back into the kitchen. Eric met her by one of the cupboards opening the door to reach in and hand down an extra plate to her. Abi fished out a knife, fork, and spoon out of a drawer and headed back out of the room, dutifully clutching her charges on the way to the dining room.

Allison grinned at the amused interest Rogers seemed to have, watching Abi come and go, mentioning, “5. And Catie will be four in April. They’re not as bad as Mick’ll make them out to be.” 

“You don’t have to live with ‘em,” Mick countered. 

“Hey!” Julie playfully warned him, waving an oven mitt to chide him. 

He winked at Rogers, when Julie couldn’t see, complaining, “So much estrogen in this damned house. Thank god you’re here.” 

Steve snuffled a laugh and Julie straightened up from pulling a tray of rolls out of the oven, assuring him, “You never had it so good.” 

“That’s true,” he agreed, with an accepting tilt of his head to a shoulder. He stood a little taller, inviting his guests to, “Go grab a seat. Dinner’s almost done.” 

Allison winked at Steve, whispering, “Told ya. It’s okay.” 


	12. Chapter 12

Jan 2012

Jack couldn’t believe what he was seeing. But then he took a moment to consider who was involved and he could. He shook his head, snuffling a laugh at how easily she pulled it off. If he hadn’t witnessed it himself, he would have thought the whole thing was Waterson’s idea. Instead, watching Addams convince him to give up his seat in the humvee by simply noting it was probably 2 or 3 degrees warmer in the vehicle than it was outside of it was like watching some kind of slight of hand. Danny never saw it, and it was right in front of him the whole time.

Rollins twisted in his seat to look behind him, giving her a knowing smirk and watching as she settled herself into the back seat behind the driver’s. When she finally looked up from unpacking her MRE for lunch, he asked, “What kind of black magic bullshit are you doing?”

“What?” she innocently asked.

“I saw that,” he told her, pointing a finger toward Waterson sitting on the ground outside to take his meal with some of their other teammates.

“What?” she begged again, this time with a hint of a mischievous grin in the side of her mouth.

“I don’t know what the hell kind of voodoo you’re up to,” Jack said, “but you better knock it off, before one of these guys figures it out.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Allison shook her head, tearing open the entree packet of her field lunch.

“You know damn well there’s no difference between sitting in here and out there,” he assured her. “It’s 50 degrees out and there’s no doors on this hummer. A couple degrees one way or the other doesn’t do dick.” He inclined his head toward Rogers sitting in the seat behind him. “You just wanted to have lunch with your buddy.”

“Don’t bring me into this,” the Captain spoke up, around a mouthful of food. 

But Allison was already snickering and had given herself away. “Uh huh,” Rollins nodded. “I knew it. Fucking CS PsyOps bullshit.”

“Okay,” she admitted, “so I got a comfy seat. What’s the big deal?”

Jack turned back around in his seat, giving his attention to the map on his tablet. “Just how long do you think you’re gonna get away with manipulating these guys?” he wondered, and he heard Steve chuckling behind him before the distinct slapping sound of a hand hitting a limb silenced the Captain.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean, Sir,” she airily maintained.

“Yesterday,” he began, “Mickelson pulled your gear for you when we landed. Last week, Dennison offered to write up your part of the training brief for this exercise.” He looked back at her to point out, “Which he ended up doing.” Rollins went back to the map, adding, “Before that, Emery-“

“Allllright,” she stopped him, rolling her eyes.

“So, what is it?” Rogers pressed, with a crooked grin. “Voodoo dolls? Some kind of spell?”

“I’m not doing anything. I swear,” she insisted. Rollins turned over his shoulder to arch up a brow at her. “Okay, fine. I’ll own up to Danny just now, but the others are just doing shit on their own. I never asked.”

“Sure ya didn’t, Princess,” Jack nodded, comparing his notes for training to the map on his screen.

“Princess?” Allison scoffed. “Hey, now-“

Rollins heard the Captain laughing again, before it abruptly stopped after the sound of another smack. “You’ve got half these idiots at your beck and call, whether you know it or not; doing damn near anything, just to please you, whether _they_ know it or not,” Jack explained, still grinning from the beating Rogers was occasionally taking behind him for still snickering. “So, yeah, it suits you.”

“He has a point,” Rogers agreed.

“That makes me sound like some prissy brat, just batting my eyelashes at everyone to get what I want,” Allison argued. She looked between the two of them, but neither said anything to disagree with her assessment. “Oh, yeah? Well, taking notes on everything I do lately? I got a name for _you_.”

“Can’t wait for this one,” Jack grinned, typing in coordinates for a new grid.

“Stalker,” she flatly declared, and both men chuckled.

“It’s pronounced, highly skilled observer,” Rollins corrected.

“I’m surprised it wasn’t something profane,” Rogers noted.

“Me, too,” Jack nodded. “You going soft on us, Princess?”

“Oh, fuck both of you,” she frowned, determined now to keep an eye out for whatever Jack and Steve were seeing that she hadn’t, and put a stop to it herself. Allison didn’t want anyone thinking she was skating by, just because people were getting to know her as a friend and doing unsolicited favors for her.

“Is that any way to address your superior officer?” Jack deadpanned, not bothering to take his eyes off of his work and inwardly smiling at the discomfort he imagined Allison suddenly had.

In the pause that followed, they could have heard a pin drop. Or, more accurately, Allison gulp in worry. She took a second, trying to decide from the poor view she had of his preoccupied profile if Rollins was actually mad or just messing with her. Jack finally allowed a smug grin and Allison let out her breath.

“God dammit,” she mutteringly complained for falling for it. Although she couldn’t understand why she was so suddenly concerned with his opinion of her.

“They probably don’t even know they’re doing it,” Rogers figured. “Guys do dumb things for pretty girls all the time.”

Jack didn’t look, but he reached a hand over his shoulder to point at Steve and register his silent agreement. Truth be told, if he thought it’d get him anywhere, Jack would probably be guilty of the same shit. But Rollins understood the rules about fraternization were even stronger between him and Allison. Not that he suspected any ulterior motives from any of his men. They were just good guys and it had been a long time since there was a woman assigned to the team. A little chivalry and camaraderie wouldn’t do any harm.

“It’s not my fault,” Allison grumbled, thinking now wasn’t the time to thank Steve for his subtle compliment. “It’s not like I’m running around looking for favors. We’re all friends, that’s all. They’re just being nice. I have no other explanation.” She pointed a finger toward the front of the vehicle, finishing up, “And I earned my spot here. I’m _not_ a princess.”

“Fine,” Jack shrugged, dragging the view on his screen around. “Then you must be a witch.”

“We should find a duck and weigh her against it,” Rogers said, matter of factly.

“You've seen that one, huh?” Rollins chuckled.

“I stand by my earlier statement,” Allison shook her head. “Fuck the both of you.”

Allison took shelter in a long drink from her canteen. Beside her, Steve chuckled and ahead of her Jack still smirked. She rolled her eyes, putting all of her attention into her meal. She had a half hour before the training exercise resumed. She might as well enjoy her comfortable spot to sit.

Jan 2012

“Let me get my hands on that,” Allison called, arm laid over the back of the couch and pointing across the living room of the Captain’s apartment.   
  
“I’m not throwing it to you, if that’s what you think,” Rogers smirked.

Allison opened and closed her hand a few times, reaching but not bothering to get off the couch, playfully saying, “Gimme.” 

“Fine,” he snorted, shaking his head and dipping down to pick up his shield where it sat propped against the wall near the door. Crossing the room, he passed it to her, warning, “Don’t break anything.” 

Allison snickered, sitting up a little straighter and putting her feet back on the floor. She turned the shield over in her hands, giving both sides a thorough study, as she stood up. She slipped her arm into the strap and grabbed the handle, while Steve stood nearby, arms crossed over his chest and an amused smile on his lips. 

“Huh,” she quietly marveled, turning her wrist to look down the front of the shield and smooth her free hand over the seams of the rings and points of the star. “They sure don’t make ‘em like they used to.” 

“Ain’t that the truth,” he chuckled. He untucked a hand, pointing to his shield, noting, “Howard Stark made that for me. It’s vibranum. The rarest metal on Earth.” 

“I know,” she grinned, tilting the shield to admire the back. She looked up to Steve and quirked up a judgmental brow, noting, “The rarest metal on Earth...and you let it sit on the floor.” 

“Alright,” he groaned, with a halfhearted roll of his eyes. He stepped forward holding out his hand, telling her, “Give it back.” 

“Nooo,” she whined, pulling the shield up close to her and folding her free arm around it to hold on to. “I wanna throw it.” 

“Well, you can’t throw it in here,” he declared. 

“Let’s go outside,” she brightly suggested. 

“It's almost midnight,” he reminded her, chuckling. “And where ya gonna throw it?”

“Pleeeease?” she begged, still hugging the shield. 

“No,” he swept his head. “And stop it with the puppy eyes. It’s not gonna work on me.” 

“You’re no fun,” she pouted, her shoulders sagging as he grabbed a hold of the top of the shield and she slid her arm out. 

“I know,” he groaningly agreed, facetiously nodding. “Just a mean old man.” 

“There’s not a mean bone in your body,” Allison mused, dropping down on the end of the couch again as he put the shield back by the door, “is there?” 

Steve snuffled a laugh, with a thoughtful tilt of his head. “I don’t knowww,” he playfully considered. 

“Don’t worry. I’ve got enough of ‘em for both of us,” she winked, her gaze following him down to the couch. 

He gave a quiet snort and swept his head. “You’re not mean, Al,” Rogers told her. Pointing a finger to wag her way, he added, “But you are a tough son of a bitch.” 

“That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said about me,” she grinned, batting her lashes. 

“Smartass,” he muttered, shaking his head. It was quiet for a moment, as their smiles naturally dissolved, before his brow folded down and he wondered, “You ever get tired of it?” 

“Of being a bitch?” she quipped, her brow wagging high. 

“No,” he smirked. Steve made a vague gesture out away from him, saying, “Of what we do? The fighting and the...” He trailed off, dropping his head to shake before lifting his chin to see her again. “I’ve just been thinking. Where does it end?”   
  
“You thinking about quittin’ on me?” Allison teased, twisting in her seat to turn in to the corner and see him. 

An awkward snort fell out of him and a shoulder rose in a half-shrug. “I don’t know.” 

She blinked, thrown by the heaviness in his sigh. “Hey,” she gently said, scooting up to him and reaching out a hand for his shoulder. “You okay?” 

“Yeah,” he shook his head, giving her a weak smile that did nothing to convince her. “Just been thinking today, before you showed up. That’s all.”

“What brought this up?” she asked. “Something happen?” 

His head bobbed, admitting, “A long time ago.” 

“What is it?” she carefully pressed, her fingertip scratching softly back and forth on his shoulder to encourage him.

It was quiet for a long moment, and Allison withdrew her hand, thinking he wasn’t going to tell her. She figured she knew exactly what was on his mind, though. She’d been studying him after all, working up her own profile from what she learned from the history books, his file, and their talks. It was decades ago by the calendars, but only a couple short years since Bucky Barnes, his best friend since childhood, had died to him.

She folded her hands in her lap, patiently waiting. If he didn’t want to talk, she could at least be company. Rogers inhaled deeply, his gaze settling vacantly across the room to the foot of the empty fireplace. 

“An anniversary today got me thinking,” he finally said. “About what I’m doin’. Is it worth it?” He put his arm up on the side of the couch, bending it up to rest his chin against his fist, before he spoke again. “68 years ago, I lost a friend.” Rogers shook his head, letting his fist fall and dropping his gaze to the floor in front of him. “I don’t know, Ally,” he grimaced. “How long am I suppose to do this?” 

Allison eyed him carefully, watching the lines of frustration slowly relax from his expression, but not quite disappear. She didn’t have a good answer and told him the same. With a slow sweep of her head, she considered, “Sometimes people just know when it’s time to stop. Sometimes we don’t.” 

He nodded along, before giving her a discerning once over, earnestly asking, “What about you? How long do you think you can keep this up?” 

“Me?” she stalled. She hadn’t really ever given retirement much of a thought. “I don’t know,” Allison shrugged. “I s’pose I always just figured I’d die doing this.” 

“And that’s okay with you?” he pressed, a wrinkle of genuine curiosity in his brow. 

Giving it a moment’s thought, she nodded. “Yeah. I’m okay with that.” 

“What about your family?” he asked, sweeping his head. “Is that okay with them? With your friends?” 

“It is,” she figured.

“How?” Steve shook his head. 

“My family’s...not like most,” Allison said, with a limp shrug. “And my friends? My closest friends, who now me best, they’re all like me. I don’t really have anyone close to me who isn’t in this life somehow.” She nodded to herself. “I like to think, if I died tomorrow, they’d be proud. I’m sure my dad finally would be, anyway.”

“They’d be proud,” he told her, with a nod, “but you’d be gone. Don’t you ever think of what you could miss out on?” 

“Do you?” she asked, folding her arms on the back of the couch to pillow her cheek there. 

“Sometimes,” he nodded. “I lost a whole lifetime of friends. I’m set up to do it all over again.”

“You’ve got a second life,” she realized. “You don’t have to. You could change everything. Do it differently.” 

Rogers nodded along. He looked up at her again, wondering, “If you had the chance...would you?” 

Allison was stuck for a quick answer. She thought it over and gave a small shake of her head on her arms. “No,” she decided. “I think I’d always end up here.” 

“Didn’t you ever want to be something else, when you were a kid, or something?” he asked. 

“I think there’s lots of stuff that sounds fun or exciting, when you’re little,” she said. “But when it comes up to that time, when you have to honestly decide what you’re gonna be...sometimes you don’t have a choice. Sometimes, you just know where you’re supposed to go.” 

“And this is where you’re supposed to be?”

“Mhm,” she hummed, with a small nod.

“Do you ever think maybe you missed out? Ever regret it?” he quietly wondered.

“Things that happened on the way,” she conceded. “Things I couldn’t control.” Losing her mother and being left alone with a father who didn’t seem to care enough being the first thing that came to mind. Feeling less and unworthy of her father’s affection and approval for so long. “Things I chose to do and be that weren’t necessarily for me, at first, but they are who I am now. I found a home in what I do. Even if I knew how to change it, I don't think I would.” Allison picked her head up, propping it against her fist. “If I wasn’t here, someone else would have to be. As long as I am, they don’t have to. And if it can be me, instead of Mick, or anyone else who has something better to go home to, that’s the way it should be.” 

“If I ever meet your dad, I’d tell him how wrong about you he is,” Steve promised. 

Allison ducked her head into her arm on the back of the couch, grinning shyly. She turned her face back out to see him, with a genuine, “Thanks.” 

“He doesn’t know what he’ll lose,” he swept his head. “It’s a damn shame.” 

“It is what it is,” she knew. “I’ve made peace with it.” With a thoughtful pout, she added, “Anyway, things aren’t as bad as they used to be.”

“Still,” Rogers began, turning in his seat to face her better, “for what we give up- For what we loose on the way- Family and friends, pieces of ourselves... I watched my best friend die, and there was nothing I could do to stop it. And now, I keep thinking about history repeating itself. I wasn’t good enough then. What if I’m not now?”

“We can’t fight fate,” she gently warned. “Sometimes, it doesn’t matter how good we are. Sometimes, we still lose.”

“Do you think it’s worth it?” he asked, brushing a knuckle past the end of his nose, with a quiet sniff. “You think any of it matters?” 

“I like to think so,” she told him. “If not, what’s the point? If there’s not something better ahead, there’s nothing to keep us moving forward. It maybe takes awhile to get there, and maybe I don’t get to see it, but it might be there for someone else. That’s good enough reason, right?” 

“You think it’s selfish, don’t you?” Steve figured. “Me, even thinking about not fighting anymore.”

“Not at all,” Allison assured him. She reached out to put her hand on his arm, coming to understand tonight that, “No one could say you haven’t already done enough. And that you even have the nerve to try and do it twice is incredible.” He snorted weakly, his head ticking back at the idea with a narrow sweep. “I have no idea what it’s like to be you, but I know what you’re up against. No one would blame you, if you wanted to walk away from it all.” She couldn’t help but think of the relief it would be to HYDRA, if he did. “But I know what the world is like with Captain America, too.”

Before tonight, she hadn’t considered what things would be like without him. Certainly, she would have one less friend. She’d grown incredibly fond of the Captain, despite who they both were. She often found herself forgetting she was there to keep an eye on him; that she had orders. He confided in her and, to an extent, she in him. She had her secrets to keep for work, but the rest of her was easy to share. She’d stopped thinking of him as a threat so long ago that she found it strange, and hard to find anything to say, when Rollins or her father asked for an update on the Captain.

If Rogers retired, what would HYDRA do? Without him under their thumb, would they simply let him be? She couldn’t fathom that they’d ever stop surveilling him. A good man, like him, could come back at any moment, if he felt he could help. She figured, if Steve ever stopped being of use, it’d be easier for HYDRA to just kill him than risk his return in anger. It was safer for him to stay close, for now. And with people listening through the bugs in the apartment, Allison knew it was her job to keep him in the fold.   
  
“I for one,” she began, touching her fingertips to her chest, “want to see you stick around.” He flashed an awkward smile, with a quiet laugh. “I think the world’s a better place for it. You saved us all in Europe. You did it again in New York. Who knows what you might do next? I think the world sleeps better having you around again.”

“Okay,” he groaned, raising his chin in a high nod. “Now you’re just being smart.” 

“No, I mean it,” she told him, despite his humble chuckle pulling a smile onto her lips. Allison gave his arm a squeeze. “I’m serious. I think you should stay. If only to watch each other’s back. That way nobody has to be proud of us too soon. Okay?” 

“Okay,” he grinned. Steve put his hand over hers on his arm, giving it a gentle squeeze and a little pat, sincerely telling her, “You’re a good friend, Al. One of the best people I ever met.” He gave her a solemn nod. “Even if neither of us dies with our boots on, I’m proud. I’m glad I got to know you.” 

“Me, too,” she nodded, giving him a warm smile.


	13. Chapter 13

Jan 2012

“Allison!”

Addams looked to her right, catching sight of Junger’s hand in the air to guide her over. Allison wove her way through the tables of the crowded cafeteria. She set down her tray and pulled out a chair, joining the other ladies of STRIKE for lunch.

“Didn’t think you were going to make it,” Penn mentioned.

With a groan and roll of her eyes, Allison agreed, “Yeah. Got held up at the Quartermaster. I don’t know why we have to be remeasured. I’m in the same size uniforms as when I first got assigned to STRIKE.”

“Probably the most ass those guys get in a year,” Fender smirked.

Allison snorted and shook her head. “Jesus, Jill,” she laughed.

“Speaking of ass...” Odierno chimed in, wagging her brow up at Allison. “Heard you’ve picked up a new piece.”

“ _Odie_ ,” Junger chided, nudging her arm.

“I have not,” Allison confidently assured them, her lips puckering a bit against her grin. “Just testing the waters.”

“What’s his name?” Penn asked. “What’s he do?”

“Pete,” she answered. “He’s a book editor.”

“Borrring,” Odierno declared, and everyone giggled.

“Pete,” Fender repeated, trying it out. “Classic, strong. I like it.”

Allison nodded along, finishing her bite of sandwich before shaking her head. “I don’t know why I told you guys.”

“Who else ya gonna tell?” Junger smiled.

“Where do you meet a book editor?” Odie wondered, ahead of a drink, her brow wrinkled in curiosity.

“At the gun range,” Allison nonchalantly told them.

“Oh, of course,” Penn sarcastically agreed.

“He’s sounding better already,” Odierno mused.

“I was out with Mickelson’s wife, shopping for him for Christmas,” Allison shrugged. “He was there, shooting with a couple friends. He came over, said hi. He was cute, so I gave him my number and he said he’d call after the holidays.”

“Cute?” Jill questioned. “On a scale of ‘his grandmother thinks he’s handsome’ to ‘I have to go to church immediately and confess these impure thoughts’, how hot is he?”

“Is that a 1 to 10 scale?” Allison wondered, with a coy grin. “I’d give him a solid 7, maybe 7 and a half. Dress him up a bit and probably an easy 9, or better. The potential is there, but we’ve only done casual.”

“I think that’s sweet,” Penn shrugged thoughtfully, “waiting to call, not putting any pressure on with the holidays. I’d give him a freebie just for that.”

“How is he in-”

“Ladies, as much as I enjoy having to overhear you objectify men and reducing us to nothing more than play things for your own amusement,” Rollins spoke up, eyeing the women at the table who all instantly froze, “I’m afraid you’ll have to cut it short today. Fender and Penn,” he double checked the activation notice that had arrived on his phone only moments ago, “you’re wanted in briefing room 4. Now.”

“Yes, Sir,” the two women hastily said, popping up from their chairs to gather their things onto their lunch trays again.

Jack smirked, watching them hurry off and leaving Addams, Junger, and Odierno quietly snickering. “Ladies,” Rollins nodded.

“Sir,” the women replied in unison, failing miserably at straightening their faces.

Rollins turned back around in his seat. Across from him, Greer and Dennison smirked and snorted as they continued their meals. Jack chuckled to himself, taking up his fork again.

Odie reached over and smacked Allison on the arm. “Why didn’t you say something?” she hissed.

“ _Me_?” Allison quietly begged. “I don’t have eyes in the back of my head. You should’ve said something.”

They both stared accusingly at each other for a moment, before they sputtered into laughter again and Odie decided, “From now on, we get a table in the corner, or we don’t eat in here at all.”

“Agreed,” Addams and Junger nodded.

Jan 2012

“What happened to Rollins?” Allison wandered, bridging the cards in her hands and she shuffled. It was only the group’s fourth game and they hadn’t really fallen in to a solid schedule, but it seemed unusual to her that Rollins missed it, considering he was the one who had organized the game in the group text message.

“Jen’s working,” Dennison simply said.

“Who's Jen?” Brian asked.

“Jen's working?” Mick repeated. “Sounds like a stripper.”

The group around the table laughed, as Will spoke up. “Canadian intelligence officer,” Dennison explained, throwing in his ante. “They got a thing.”

“That’s vague and intriguing at the same time,” Rogers mused. 

“She’s good people,” Dennison nodded. “She throws us a bone, every now and then.”

“And Rollins throws her one whenever she’s in town,” Haney wolfishly grinned.

Allison quirked up a brow, thumbing cards out around the table. While Dennison punched Haney in the arm and chided him for his crassness, everyone else chuckled. She grinned at Will’s gentlemanliness and thanked him for the same, but like Steve, she was intrigued to hear about Rollins in any kind of relationship. She’d heard some things in passing, mentions of a pickup here or there that someone had been bs’ing about from the night before, but she’d never heard a name given to any of them. Allison was inexplicably curious to know if Jack had ever kept a steady girlfriend or if he was just one of those guys who kept things casual, because he knew he could get away with it with the confident charm he seemed to have. 

“She hot?” Eric asked, as Allison dealt out the flop. 

“She is hot,” Cephas confirmed, with a sure nod and his brow raised high for emphasis. 

“Nice,” Mick grinned, with a subtle bob of his head. 

“I’m telling your wife,” Allison flatly said. 

“What?” he defensively argued. “I didn’t do nothing.” 

Pointing a finger his way, from her elbow propped up on the table, she flatly told him, “Before you get any ideas, you’re not developing a foreign operative booty call.” 

“A guy can dream,” he sulked, throwing in a chip as the bet came around to him. 

“You couldn’t handle the pressure of juggling your wife and,” Allison added a pair of finger quotations, “an _ass-_ set.” 

“ _Ass_ et,” Rogers repeated, snickering. 

“Do you have to be the voice of reason all the damn time, Al?” Mick complained, giving her a smirk. 

“Just keeping your head of the chopping block,” she shrugged, with a smile, turning over the next card. 

Jan 2012

“Hey, Rollins,” Allison smiled, stopping at the end of the table. 

“Hey, Al,” Jack grinned back, looking up from the bar menu and surprised to see her.

“Fancy meeting you here,” she quipped, surprised to have spotted him on the way to her table and curious if the mysterious Jen was around somewhere.

“Meeting some friends,” he told her, and Allison gave a small nod.

“Who's this?”

Rollins turned his attention to the short brunette that came up to join Addams. Allison turned over her hand to answer her friend and reference Jack, saying, “Brooke, this Lt. Commander Rollins, my squad leader.” She motioned to her friend, explaining, “College roomie.”

Jack offered his hand up to shake Brooke’s. “Nice to meet you, roomie.” 

“Lieutenant Commander, huh?” Brooke mused. “Hell of a first name for a kid to have to learn to spell.”

“Jack,” he corrected, with a smile.

“Much better,” Brooke nodded. “You guys and your titles,” she tutted. Her eyes flicked over to the front door of the restaurant and Brooke patted a hand on Allison’s arm. “Oo. There’s Michelle. I’ll get her.” She glanced down at Jack, telling him it was nice to meet him, before going to greet their friend.

“She seems like a ball buster,” Rollins noted, albeit with a grin, watching Brooke cross the dining room.

“She has her moments,” Allison proudly agreed.

“Ladies night?” he smirked.

“College reunion,” she told him, with a grin, “I guess. Finding some friends again, after moving back.”

“Ah,” he nodded. “I see.”

“Well,” Allison said, “gang’s all here.” She gave a small wave before turning to go and saying, “Have a good night, Commander.”

“Lieutenant,” he said after her, and Allison stopped before she finished turning away from the table. “We’re out of uniform,” he reminded her. “You’ve been around for six months, or so. Mick and Brian have relaxed. You can, too. You can call me Jack.”

Allison flashed a slightly embarrassed grin. “Habit, I guess,” she excused. “With you being the boss and all.”

Rollins nodded his understanding. “I appreciate it, but it’s not necessary out here,” he assured her. 

“Well, then,” she smiled, trying out the sound of it in her head before she said it aloud, “have a good night, Jack.”

“Same to you, Al,” he smiled back.

He watched after her for a moment, seeing her weave her way through the tables to meet up with her friends across the room. Looking back to the door, Jack’s own buddies had arrived and he held up a hand to guide them over. A moment later, a pair of friends from his days with the Rangers were sitting down to join him. 

“Who’s the girl?” Kyle asked, glancing over toward Allison and her friends, as he pulled his chair up to the table.

“Friend from work,” he answered.

“Hmm,” Scott hummed. “What _kind_ of friend?”

“She’s part of the squad,” Jack said, grinning at the cheeky suggestion in his friend’s question.

“Ahh,” Kyle slowly nodded, picking up his menu. “The kind you don’t fuck with, unless you wanna lose your job.”

“That’s disappointing,” Scott frowned.

“You’re telling me,” Rollins complained, and the others laughed.

“Single?” Kyle checked, reading over the beer list.

Jack shrugged. “There was some chatter, a while ago. Showed up to the Christmas party with a friend, though.” He figured her going with Rogers had to mean she wasn't involved in anything serious, but, “Haven’t heard anything solid, lately.”

Scott shook his head. “Very disappointing. How do you work with that everyday and not stare?”

“I’m a professional,” Jack told them.

“You mean, just not staring long enough to get caught,” Kyle figured.

“Exactly,” Rollins nodded, with a smirk.

“Too bad,” Scott swept his head, closing his menu and folding his arms on the edge of the table. “Three of them, three of us. Could’a been fun. Why couldn’t you have said she was a just an agent from somewhere out of your division and we could have put the tables together?”

Laughing as he was with his friends, Jack couldn’t deny his own disappointment in the situation. Having Addams around everyday was having an effect on his infatuation with her, beyond the physical. Now he knew first hand what he’d always figured about her. Besides her incredible talent for the job, she had a great sense of humor for it. The work could be physically and mentally draining. A quick wit and dry humor helped better than whiskey, sometimes. Allison had always been smart, confident, and a hell of a soldier. But now he saw she was approachable, almost inviting in how friendly and kind she could be. It was no wonder she and Rogers had fallen in so easily together and everyone around the Division seemed to like her. Rollins had a more well-rounded picture of her than he’d ever thought he would see, after she shipped off to the Citadel, and it was becoming a little frustrating to be so aware of regulations. 

Jack chuckled, shrugging, “Yeah. But what can you do?”

...

“So, what’s his deal?” Brooke wondered, throwing a smile up at the waitress to thank her for her glass of water.

“Who?” Allison wondered, a slightly confused wrinkle in her brow. The waitress said she’d return in a few minutes and Allison thanked her for the table.

“Mr. Broad Shoulders, Chiseled Jaw over there,” Brooke winked.

Allison glanced back over at Jack and his friends. “Who, _Rollins_?” she skeptically checked, and Brooke nodded.

“What’d I miss?” Michelle wondered, putting aside her menu to pay attention.

“The guy she was talking to you when you came in,” Brooke explained, tipping her head toward the other table.

Michelle leaned past Allison for a peek. “Ohh,” she breathed. “Very nice. Who is he?”

“He’s my boss,” Allison flatly said, hoping to quash the discussion before it got started. It was odd enough running into each other out of work. It was another to have him be an item of discussion with friends she was reconnecting with.

“He’s pretty,” Brooke noted, wagging up her brow.

“He’s my _boss_ ,” she repeated. 

“And that somehow makes him _not_ pretty?” Brooke scoffed.

“It makes any discussion about who’s pretty or not moot, because of regulations,” Allison firmly explained, meaning to end the conversation and let a new topic come up.

“So, you concede...he _is_ pretty,” Brooke pressed.

“I’m not conceding anything,” she assured them. “This is my job we’re talking about here. There’s three regulations that tell me I don’t care how hot anyone I work with is. _Especially_ a boss.”

“She called him hot,” Brooke pointed out.

“She did,” Michelle agreed, taking up her menu again, with a smug grin of satisfaction.

Allison shook her head, with a small sigh. “No, I didn't,” she muttered, trying to concentrate on her menu. “I hear the salmon here is really good,” she threw out there, but no one took the bait.

“She likes him,” Brooke quietly sang, her eyes wandering over her own menu.

“I don’t like him,” Allison grumbled. “Not like you’re thinking, anyway. It doesn’t work like that, okay? ...He’s a good guy. A good officer to work for. That’s all.”

“You’re cheeks are getting red,” Michelle casually mentioned.

“If they are,” she argued, aware only then of the soft heat building in her cheeks, after Michelle pointed it out, “it’s because you guys are getting annoying. You’re being ridiculous.”

“You are adorable when you lie,” Brooke beamed. “You’ve got a crush on your boss.”

“I _don’t_ ,” Allison insisted.

Because she didn’t. Rollins was a mean son of a bitch. He came off as arrogant sometimes, which she assumed came from his quick rise up the ranks and the success of his career with the Army before joining HYDRA and SHIELD. In all fairness, he was an apex operator. She could see, he'd probably more than earned the right to be cocky. He was a hard ass in training and he demanded perfection. But she understood why. In a job like theirs, nothing short of excellence and perfection would do.

Truthfully, she didn’t mind it. She actually respected Rollins for it. It took a certain strength of character to lead by example the way he did. In many ways, he was the ideal lieutenant for Rumlow. The Division had never run better, since the two had taken over. How could that not be admired? He was confident, reliable, and experienced. Whether or not he was handsome had nothing to do with the reasons she’d follow him into battle. And _god damn it_ , she realized she’d just used the word handsome while she was considering him. 

“Rollins... Rollins...” Michelle softly mused, before suddenly clutching Allison’s arm. “Oh, my god,” she breathed out. “Is he the one that told Kurt to fuck off?”

Allison dropped her head into her palm and sighed. “Yes,” she groaned.

“I love him even more, now,” Brooke giddily smiled.

“What a sweetheart,” Michelle cooed.

“Oh, for god’s sake,” Allison groused. “He’s not a- Is this what we came out for tonight?” she begged.

“To catch up and gossip and embarrass the shit out of each other?” Brooke checked. “ _Yes_.”

“He’s not a sweetheart,” she firmly told them. “He was just looking out for one of his people. In real life, he’s kind of an asshole,” she tried to convince them, herself included.

“Maybe you need a bad boy?” Michelle suggested, with a fiendish grin.

Allison rolled her eyes and Brooke nudged her arm, saying, “Look at him. Tall, dark, and handsome.” She nudged her again, when Allison wouldn’t look at her. “Where’d he get the scar?”

“I don’t know,” Allison tiredly sighed.

“And, my god, the muscles on him,” Michelle gaped. “Who wouldn’t wanna ride him ‘til the wheels came off?”

“That jawline and those brown eyes,” Brooke went on.

“They’re green,” Allison corrected, before she recognized the trap and saw she'd fallen right into it. _Shit._

“Ha!” Brooke pointed at Allison’s face. “I _knew_ it.”

Michelle leaned past Allison again, wondering, as she squinted Jack’s way, “Are they green?”

Allison’s head dropped into her hand and she raked her fingers back into her hair. She shook her head, telling them both, “You’re terrible, awful friends.”

“And _you’re_ not denying anymore that you like him,” Brooke circled a finger at her.

Allison’s jaw fell open, lost for a quick comeback. She frowned at Brooke, saying, “I don’t think I have to keep saying it.”

“I don’t see what the big deal is,” Michelle shrugged. “It’s okay to say it. Nobody here’s gonna blame you or turn you in for being attracted to him. The man is gorgeous.”

Allison rolled her eyes over hard and shook her head, promising, “Not gonna happen.”

It took a minute, but Allison managed to get Brooke and Michelle’s attention off of her and back onto their menus before the waitress returned. But she couldn’t help stealing a quick glance over at Jack’s table, although she didn’t have a good explanation for why. Allison shook it off, determined to not look again and enjoy the night with her girlfriends without giving them a reason for further needling or teasing.


	14. Chapter 14

Jan 2012

Jack put away his phone, coming up to the doorway of Bravo Team’s briefing room. He went though the open door on the right and pushed back the closed one on the left so it would stand open. He had barely finished flipping up the first light switch, when his attention was drawn over his shoulder. Behind him, at the furthest seat in the last row of tables at the back of the briefing room’s shadows, Addams was just straightening up from putting her boots back on the floor. She flashed a sheepish grin and Rollins wondered, “What are you doing here, Princess?”

Her expression dropped to match her unamused tone, explaining, “Hiding from Sitwell.”

Jack snuffled a laugh, walking down the aisle in the center of the room to lay his tablet and a couple of file folders on the podium. “Then you should’ve shut and locked the doors,” he pointed out. “You think because you’re in Bravo’s room he won’t come in?”

“He’s not smart enough to look past what he can see through an open doorway,” she maintained. “Besides, like you said, it’s not my room. Why would he look in here?”

Walking back through the room, Jack checked his watch to see how long he had before Bravo’s 1st Squad arrived for their mission briefing. Allison was already back to browsing the emails on her phone, out of boredom, when Rollins settled to lean back onto the opposite end of her row of tables. He crossed his arms comfortably and asked why she was hiding out.

“That weaselly little prick,” she muttered, before putting her phone aside to explain, “I heard he’s got some questions about my Turkmenistan assignment. I’m just not in the mood today.”

“What questions?” he incredulously asked, his folded arms rising slightly on his chest as his shoulders shrugged. “The AAR is complete and approved. There are no questions.” 

Allison turned over her hand, lifting her palm to him to overemphasize, “Thank you.” 

Jack glanced back through the open double doors, hearing footsteps coming down the hall. He caught movement coming across the doorway and his hand laying over his arm quickly balled into a fist, the motion immediately halting Allison as she was just starting to continue her complaint about Sitwell. Allison waited, eyes fixed on Rollins and heart beating a bit faster.

“Can I help you?” Rollins flatly asked, quirking up a brow and looking out to the hall.

“I was looking for Lt. Addams,” Sitwell said, and Allison froze, not even daring to breath and risk being heard.

Jack saw Sitwell’s move to step into the doorway to take a look for himself coming, but Jack stopped him mid-stride by saying, “I’ll let her know, if I see her.” 

Sitwell shifted his weight back to his foot behind him, raising his chin in a kind of acceptance of Jack’s offer. “See that you do,” he said, as if his direction had any influence over anything Rollins did. 

With a subtle jut of his chin, Jack added a disinterested, “Yeah”, if only to keep Sitwell from having the last word. 

Allison realized she had shrank into her shoulders, as she slid down in her seat to hide when she’d heard Sitwell’s voice. As ridiculous as she might look, she was happy to stay there, until she heard his footsteps fading down the hall. She took her eyes off the door, finally relaxing enough to sit back up in her chair when Rollins signaled the all clear.

“Sitwell’s looking for you,” he sarcastically told her. 

“Gee, thanks,” she rolled her eyes. “I’ll get right on it.” 

Jack smirked, snuffling a laugh at how cute she had looked scrunched down in her seat as he shook his head. “What are you going to do for the next two and a half hours? You can’t hide in here all day. Bravo briefs in 10 minutes,” he pointed out. 

“Damn,” she sighed, rising from her seat to push in her chair and pocket her phone. Rollins uncrossed his arms and stood up himself, as Allison came down the row and joked, “Maybe I can hide behind you for the rest of the day.” He didn’t move, when she made a sharp turn to stand directly behind him, but he turned his head over his shoulder to see her holding up her hands as if she were measuring the width of his shoulders and deciding with a nod, “Yeah. He wouldn’t see me back here.” 

Jack chuckled, amused by her assertion and by no no means bothered by her being so close. “Any other day, I’d let you, but I’m too busy to play human shield today,” he told her, turning out to move around her and finish turning on the lights in the room. “You’re a Horseman, for fuck’s sake,” he reminded her. “I think you can manage to survive the next couple of hours on your own, ‘til it’s time to go home.” 

“Some help you are,” she playfully huffed, crossing her arms and raking her eyes down the front of him, as if she were genuinely disappointed in Rollins. The whole act helped redirect her mind from trying to figure out the unanswered question from Columbia of if it was a cologne or aftershave she remembered from his pillow then when she caught a whiff of him now when she was close. _What a ridiculous thing to be thinking of now_ , she silently scolded herself.

On his way up to the podium, he gestured a hand back toward the door, noting with a smirk, “I already covered for you once. What d’ya want from me?” 

“Hell, I don’t know,” she shrugged, lazily making her way up the aisle to peek around the side of the podium and wonder, “What’s Bravo doin’? Maybe I can run away with them.” 

“You’re not going anywhere,” he told her, powering up the computer and other equipment in the room. 

Allison pouted, carefully poking a finger under the cover of the folder on top of his paperwork to try and read. Jack noticed and slapped her hand away. Allison shook the sting out of her fingers and flipped him off, turning for the door. 

“I saw that,” he flatly pointed out.

“Wasn’t trying time hide it,” she shrugged. “If anybody but Sitwell needs me, I’ll be hiding in the women’s locker room.” 

With his head still down on his work, Jack glanced up through his brow to watch her go. He chuckled to himself, seeing her lean out of the doorway to check left then right down the hall. Allison took a step back into the room to look at Rollins. 

“If I were an annoying prick,” she began, pointing over her shoulder to the hallway, “which way would I have gone?” 

Jack leaned forward, folding his arms on the podium. He cocked up a brow, wondering, “What’s it worth to you?” 

Allison’s head tipped to the side, smirking, “I don’t beg, if that’s what you’re expecting.” 

“No, I imagine it’s usually the other way around,” he grinned. 

Allison quietly snorted, giving a small sweep of her head to ward off the blush she felt coming. “Fine,” she relented, straightening her face. “I’ll take my chances on my own.” 

Turning for the door again, she stopped mid-step, hearing him call after her, “ _Alright_.” She looked back to see him pointing to the right. “Couldn’t live with myself, if I let you walk into a trap,” he smiled. “Go left.” 

She flashed him an appreciative grin. “Thanks.”

Feb 2012

“Audio’s down.” 

“What? Check the connection.”

Allison looked up from the game on her phone. The trio of agents at the table were checking over their computers and cables. 

“Lines are good,” Agent Kai said, with a slow sweep of his head, “but we got dead air.” 

“Okay. Try and raise Position 2 for a signaled response,” Lewis, the agent in charge, calmly ordered. “See if they can at least hear us, if we can’t hear them.”

The agents had the attention of the operators in the room. Of the mix of uniformed quick response personnel and plain clothes observers leaning or sitting around the unrented office space, Allison and Rogers stepped forward. Looking over the shoulders of agents checking their equipment and phoning the TOC at the Triskelion for confirmation, Allison gave the large pair of monitors at the makeshift workstation a thorough study. 

“TOC’s got nothing, either,” Agent Foster said. 

“Everything alright?” Steve asked. 

“There’s feedback in the audio,” Kai answered. “If we get a signal back from Emery, though...” 

“Nothing,” Foster swept his head, after trying to raise the observers on the radio. “They can't hear us.” 

Lewis stood up, pointing over the surveillance setup, saying, “Let’s pull and replace these cables. Final check to make sure it’s not our gear. And send a text out to our observers in the room. Let them know to stand by.”

“Message sent. All received,” Foster confirmed, a minute later.

“Okay,” Lewis nodded, before muttering a curse when the new cables didn’t fix the problem. “Notify the TOC we’re still down. Have them advise on an abort.” 

Behind her, Allison heard the frustrated and disappointed groans of the rest of her squad mates. She shared a quick frown with Steve, before she looked back to the monitors. Allison watched the target in the dining room. She leveled her eyes and craned her neck, scrutinizing what see saw. She asked one of the techs to put the camera in a single view, instead of the four panel windows each monitor was displaying, and her view enlarged. 

“What’d you see?” Steve asked. 

“There,” Allison said, pointing. “Something under his napkin? By the salt. See that red reflection on the glass?” 

Lewis looked and scowled. “Fucker’s got some kind of device under there. He’s jamming us.” He motioned to the computer in front of Foster, telling him, “Find us another freq.” 

Next to her, Rogers nudged his elbow into her arm, giving her a proud grin for her catch. Allison smiled in reply. She turned her attention back to watching the target alone at his table, while the agents tried to reestablish communications with the surveillance team three doors over in the downtown DC restaurant. 

Allison’s expression fell, frowning at what she saw next. “I think he’s on to ‘em,” she said, pointing again. “At least the boss, anyway. He just checked Rollins at the bar.” 

“We goin’?” Greer pressed, stepping up to stand with Allison. 

“You sure?” the Captain checked, watching for himself. 

“He’s looking alright,” she nodded, seeing a quick glance from the man towards the back of Rollins at the bar.

“Stand by,” Lewis firmly said, raising a hand to steady the uniformed men in the room eager to be let off their leash. He looked to Kai. “Are we up yet?” 

“He’s gonna run,” Rogers quietly figured. “We either pull Rollins or go in. At least we get one target, right?” 

“Waiting on the TOC,” Kai shook his head. “We’re still down.” 

Allison could hardly stand the waiting and had an idea. She stepped around Steve, reaching over to grab her purse and coat from the corner of the couch she’d been sitting on in the disused reception area. Heading for the door, she reminded the agents running the op, “The target hasn’t seen me yet. I’ll decoy for Rollins.” She looked to Rogers, telling him, “After I sit down, wait _three_ minutes then call me.” She nodded to Lewis. “Get comms up again or I get Rollins out.” 

The sigh from Lewis said he didn’t want to allow it, but he nodded his consent to send Allison out the door anyway, telling his partners, “Notify the TOC we’re sending in a decoy. And get our fucking link back up.” 

...

Allison tucked some loose hairs behind her ear, catching her breath from her short sprint down the street, before she opened the restaurant door. She bypassed the hostess station, with a cheerful smile and finger pointed toward the bar where she said she “saw her party”. Allison walked right over to Rollins and wrapped her arms around his shoulders from behind. His hand instinctually came up to her arm.

“Easy,” she quietly said to his ear, smiling. Their eyes met in the bar mirror, before she added, “Keep that look on your face, though.” and pecked a kiss to his cheek.

Rollins let his hand fall away from her wrist, as she withdrew her arms and trailed a hand across the back of his shoulders on her way to slide onto the bar chair next to his. His eyes ticked down to the last place her fingertips ghosted down his arm, questioning, “What the hell are y-“

“ _Obviously_ , I’m late to meet you,” she told him, a pleasant smile pinned on, putting her purse on the bar. “You need to keep looking put out about that. It’d also be great if you didn’t write me up for any harassment or fraternizing policy violations I may have just committed.”

Writing her up for what just happened was the furthest thing from his mind. “What are you doing in here?” he frowned, watching her shrug off her coat to lay over the back of her seat. “You’re not supposed to be in play yet.”

“That’s better,” she grinned, at the line creasing his brow. “And I know, but our friend behind you has a jammer.” Her smile dissolved, playing as if her imaginary conversation was getting her nowhere with Jack. “They’re working to get a good frequency, but you should ask for the check.”

“You couldn’t just send another text?” he wondered, the furrow in his brow as much for his confusion as his surprise of what she was doing. This wasn’t part of the plan. He raised his hand for the bartender’s attention, anyway.

An unhappy pout came to her and Allison reached out to lightly scratch her fingernails down the side of Jack’s hair above his ear, the small affection meant to look like an apology, as she said, “He’s watching you. This is the part where you ignore me, because you don't like my excuse for being late.”

Jack huffed, tilting his head out of her touch to put his attention back to eating his food, and Allison withdrew to fold her hands demurely in her lap, looking a little scolded. “Now what?” he invited. “Since you seem to be running this show...”

“Is that as good as it looks?” she asked, mouth watering at the smell of the food in the air and eyeing what was left of his burger and fries. 

“Not bad,” he shrugged. “Not the best I’ve ever had, but good.”

The bartender came down to stand in front of them, with a polite smile and offering, “Something for the lady?” 

“Just the check. Thanks,” Jack told him, and the man stepped away for the register. 

She sighed, with a frustrated cock of her head and sharp move to lean on her elbow into the bar and put herself insistently into the side of Jack’s view to keep selling the phony argument, getting back on task, “I’m gonna sit here for a minute and look like your pissy girlfriend to give you a new cover.” 

“If you’re my new cover, then why’d I just get the check?” Rollins wondered, talking around a bite of food, giving her a subtle jut of his chin to convey an attitude appropriate for the imaginary situation. 

Allison frowned. “Cap’s gonna call me soon. Last I heard, they were standing by for an abort from the TOC. We’ll see if that came through and if they think the target is buying this little charade. Even if comms come back up, I think we should extract you from the detail, just in case you’ve been made.”

The bartender came back to give Rollins his bill. While Jack reached for his wallet, Allison plucked a steak fry from his plate. He cocked up a semi-annoyed brow, watching her chew. He gave a sweep of his head and thumbed out some cash for the bill. 

“Those are pretty good,” she noted, with an approving tilt of her head. “How’s the sandwich?” 

“You gonna take that, too?” he questioned. 

“Hey,” she complained, “I’ve been sitting down the street in a dusty lobby for two hours. There’s no snacks in there.” 

With a small shake of his head, Jack pushed his plate over a few inches, telling her, “Help yourself.” 

“There,” she grinned, taking another fry and pulling the plate to her. “Now we look like we’re making up.” 

“You're eating my lunch,” he reminded her, tucking his wallet back in his pocket. “That's just adding to the reasons to argue.” 

She reached over, putting her hand on his knee, pouting with doe eyes. “Aw, c’mon. Our options to play out this scenario are we get along again or I throw your drink in your face.” She took back her hand. “Which do you prefer?”

“You’re just dying for me to say the drink, aren’t you?” Jack smirked, trying to convince his pulse to ignore where her hand had just been. 

She grinned at him. “There. That looks like a smile,” she noted, reaching up to move her fingers through his hair again. “Now I don’t have to throw the drink.” 

“You really think that’s working?” he asked, a dubious rise in his brow, despite knowing the touch was working on him.

She took a bite of burger and chewed a moment, before saying, “I hope so. PDA like that implies a more intimate relationship than being coworkers.” She swallowed her food. “Lord knows, no one just walks into a room and throws themselves at their boss in front of everyone, unless it’s to save their life.” 

“I don’t think the situation’s that dire,” he dryly noted, watching her frown and peek under the bun of his former sandwich. 

She pulled out what was left of a slice of pickle she’d bitten into. “Ugh, hate these,” she muttered. She looked up at Jack before her next bite, saying, “You’re a shitty boyfriend.” 

“For not knowing my fake girlfriend doesn’t like pickles on _my_ burger?” he chuckled. 

“See? This is why we fight all the time,” she assured him, ticking her finger back and forth between them. “You don’t pay attention to me.” 

“Is that so?” he grinned. 

Allison’s phone rang. She took her time to answer, wiping her fingertips and mouth on Jack’s napkin that she pulled from his leg. He watched, with a subtle grin of amusement at how effortlessly she was selling the whole scenario between them. While Allison took her call, Jack took a drink. 

“ _They’re doing radio checks on every band_ ,” Steve reported, “ _trying to see if you guys can hear any of them. How’s the food_?” 

“Pretty good,” she smiled. “We should come back here sometime for lunch, or something.” 

“ _It’s a date_ ,” he agreed, with a chuckle.

“Are we still green?” she checked.

“ _So far, yes. The target seems to be buying it, by the way. Good idea, Al_.” She thanked him and Rogers teased, “ _But it’s only fair to warn you, you’re probably getting fired for molesting your boss_.” 

Allison felt the heat come up in her cheeks. It was only when Rogers joked about it that she really thought about what she was doing. The kiss and the loving touches were just part of an act, but it was all on display in front of her teammates and digitally preserved as part of the mission records in the AV Clandestine Services was capturing. She was a little self-conscious now, and more than a little worried about what Rollins would say about this all later. 

“Thanks for that,” she dryly told him. “You’ve been such a delight to talk to. I’ll get Rollins out of here in a few minutes.” 

She hung up the phone, putting it on the bar and going back to picking at Rollins’ lunch. Next to her, he arched up a brow, questioning, “So, you’re _rescuing_ me?” She hummed, with an innocent shrug and a mouth full of food. “What’d Cap say?”

“Still working the problem, the target seems to have forgotten about you,” she summarized, “and I’m getting fired at the conclusion of this op for molesting my boss.” She hoped making light of the situation would keep him from taking any offense.

“Give ya an inch,” he swept his head, “and you take a mile. Barely two weeks ago, I give you permission to use my name, and now this shit?”

Allison blinked, her fear coming true and hurriedly fumbling, “What? No, I-“

“Take it easy, Al,” Jack snuffled a laugh, giving her a small nod of reassurance. “I wouldn’t worry about it, if I were you. It was for a good cause.”

“ _Jesus_ ,” she groaned, rolling her eyes at herself for not catching the joke at first and for how relieved she actually was to hear it. She nodded with an appreciative grin. “Let me get another bite here,” she hoped, “and we’ll leave.” 

“ _Control to any position. Do you copy_?” 

Jack and Allison shared a pleasantly surprised look, before Jack answered, “Position 1. You’re 5x5.” 

“Thank god,” Allison muttered. 

Rollins quietly chuckled, moving to stand up and put on his jacket, as Addams wiped the napkin to her mouth one last time. He pulled her coat out from behind her and took a distracted look around the dining room, while Allison gathered her things. Rollins held up her coat for her to slip in to and stood waiting patiently with his hands in his pockets, like any other guy waiting on his girlfriend would while she adjusted her collar and purse. He let her start just ahead of him, putting a hand on her back as he followed. Allison reached back, taking his hand to hold until they were out of the dining room and out of view of the restaurant windows. 

“Made it,” she grinned. 

“Looks like it worked,” he agreed, checking behind them for a tail and seeing none. 

Allison nodded, satisfied her gambit had paid off and happy to no longer be in the situation, after she’d realized how awkward it actually was. There was a flutter of nervousness in her belly that was slowly subsiding the further they got from the restaurant and Rollins hadn't begun to reprimand her. She felt confident she avoided any trouble, but couldn’t shake the thought of how easy it was to play up to him.

Jack reached out, pulling open the door to the empty storefront as Addams made a quick double check to see they hadn’t been followed. She went in ahead of him and went straight to her empty seat on the couch. 

“Nice work, Al,” Rogers beamed, sitting down on the arm of the couch next to her. “Quick thinking.” 

“Thanks,” she shyly grinned, hoping that was the last anyone would say about her involvement in this assignment.


	15. Chapter 15

Feb 2012

“Your phone’s ringing!”

Jack didn’t rush back down the stairs. Whoever it was would leave a message. If it was work, they’d call again in precisely two minutes, if he didn’t call them back first. He inhaled the warm smell of the fresh coffee in the kitchen, putting a hand on the hip of the slender blonde at the counter, bending to give her cheek a kiss as she handed him his phone.

“Thank you,” he said, checking the screen for the missed call and turning away from her to walk over to the refrigerator. Jack unlocked his phone, tapping the screen with one hand to return the call and pulling the orange juice out of the fridge with the other. The operator on the line challenged him to code in and Jack replied, “Lt. Commander Rollins, John W., 62237542.”

“Good morning, Commander,” the operator replied, her hard business tone instantly lifting to a pleasant one after he verified his ID. “Delta 2Bravo, priority 1 recall, Sir. Rally in Briefing Room 4 at zero-730 hours. Confirm copy.”

“Confirmed,” Jack sighed, putting the juice back in the refrigerator knowing there wasn’t going to be breakfast anymore.

Ending the call, Rollins could feel the weight of the stare at his back. He turned around, not at all surprised to see the eyebrow cocked up at him. Jack gave a resigned shrug.

“Guess I’ll grab breakfast on the way back to the hotel,” she halfheartedly groused, folding her arms. “So much for the most important meal of the day.”

“I’ll make it up with dinner, when I get back,” he promised, crossing the kitchen to her.

A mischievous smirk curled the corner of her mouth, as Jack slipped his arms around her waist. “Dinner with you is usually what makes breakfast a necessity in the morning,” she teased, rising on her toes to fold her arms around his shoulders.

“Sorry,” he sincerely offered.

“That's okay,” she told him, pulling her arms back. “Duty calls. I know.” Jack let her go, moving around her to get a mug from the drainboard. She picked up the carafe from the burner, waiting to pour him some coffee, telling him, “Don’t feel too bad. I’m probably heading back home in a day or so, anyway.”

Jack nodded his thanks for his drink and asked, “When will you be back?”

“I don’t know,” she shrugged, putting the pot down on the cutting board and grabbing her mug off the counter. “Wouldn’t hold your breath. Doesn’t look like they’ll have any work for me down here for awhile.”

“Tease,” he smirked, ahead of a taste of his coffee.

Jennifer worked for the Canadian Security Intelligence Service. Occasionally, her investigations brought her down to DC or, at least, near enough by to make a trip in to town worth it. She and Jack met at a seminar Homeland Security was hosting, three years ago. They’d hit it off by the end of the three day conference and Rollins took the invitation to her hotel before she caught a plane home the next morning. Whenever she was around, they’d get together for drinks or dinner and have a little fun. They didn’t mind trading intelligence for the other when they could, either.

Her brow wagged up and her lips parted, before she hesitantly began, “Actually, Jack...”

She didn’t have to go on for him to see what was coming. He nodded, putting aside his mug to interrupt, “That’s okay.”

“I didn’t mean to get caught up in anything,” she started to explain. “I mean, I haven’t really. We just met an-“

But he assured her, “It is what it is. We’ve always known what we were doing. For fuck’s sake, there’s almost 600 miles between us.” That her case had her in town twice and the visits so close together was a fluke in itself. They were usually good for a few times in a year, at best. “Something was bound to come up for someone, eventually, right?”

She nodded, with a warm grin. “Can I, uh, still give you a call, next time I’m in town? Ya know, if things change?”

“If things change,” Jack agreed, not that he figured it was very likely. 

Jennifer took a long drink to finish her coffee and turned to put the mug in the sink. “I better get out of your way,” she told him. She popped up on her toes to peck a kiss to his jaw as he was drinking, telling him, “Take care of yourself, Jack.”

He nodded, as he swallowed, and she backed away. “You too. Gimme a call, if you need something.”

“Likewise,” she grinned, before disappearing out the kitchen doorway.

Feb 2012

Rollins pushed the door open, stopping just over the threshold and giving three solid knocks with the side of his fist, calling out, “Male officer on the floor!”

He gave the courtesy of a good five seconds or so, before continuing into the locker room. There were fifty lockers and three aisles on either side in the space, but all five of the female operators still kept their lockers together in the same back corner. Rounding the turn to their aisle, Jack looked up from the paperwork in his hands and spotted who he was looking for.

“Ah, damn it,” he facetiously griped. “You’re all dressed.” Although Jack had no complaint about the view of Allison sitting in her sports bra and BDU pants, her uniform shirt laid over the bench behind her, and apparently unfazed by his presence.

“Timing is everything,” Addams quipped, keeping her attention down on lacing her boot pulled up on the bench.

Not that anyone cared. All of the female operators had prior service with the military in one form or another. Privacy wasn’t an issue for them, nor modesty when hot and humid summer training days and locales had everyone on a team shedding shirts for relief and wetsuits and swimwear for amphibious exercises left so little to the imagination anyway. 

“Next time you’re looking for a free show,” Odierno suggested, “don’t make the announcement.”

“Good advice,” he smirked. “Noted.”

“Who's got work?” Fender asked, shutting the door of her locker and giving the lock’s dial a spin.

“Well, Junger’s off today and Odie’s been up all night... So, Addams, Fender, and Penn,” Jack said, holding up the pair of folders in his hand for them to see. 

“Good,” Odierno smiled tiredly. “I’m beat. Good luck, ladies. I’m off to bed.”

Allison smiled after her, as Odierno grabbed her backpack off the bench in front of her locker and everyone said good night or wished her to sleep well. While the other ladies in rotation were just starting their day, Saline and her squad had come in from training overnight barely an hour ago. She needed the rest.

Looking under the cover of the file containing the morning briefing notes, Rollins told the women from Bravo Team, “Ladies, Councilwoman Hawley will be making a personal appearance this morning in the World Security Council Chambers to greet some guests before lunch on the Hill with Secretary Pierce. You’ll be joining her security detail.”

While Fender rolled her eyes, Penn shrugged, admitting, “I kinda like that she always makes it a point to get more women assigned to her escorts.”

“I guess so,” Jill seemed to reconsider.

Jack pulled a piece of paper from his folder and handed it off to Fender. “Report for briefing with the head of her security. 30 minutes, Conference Room C.”

Securing their lockers, Fender and Penn said their goodbyes and were off to draw their gear for their assignment. Jack nodded as they passed him and Allison quipped, “So much for being invited to the ladies lunch.”

With a quiet snort, Jack swept his head. “No,” he grinned, passing her the second folder in his hands. “Someone else requires your personal attention. You're dismissed for the day, to familiarize yourself with the target and pack for your flight.”

“Ah-ha,” Allison nodded once, opening the folder to see travel orders sending her to Mumbai. She checked her watch against the departure time on her paperwork and asked, “Where’s Celine Dion to belt out “All By Myself” when you need her, huh?”

“You’d rather sit around here with the rest of the squad this week?” he checked. “It’s all classroom today and tomorrow. 8 hours each of legal reminders about Geneva, UN CAT, and Title 18. If someone handed me a get out of jail free card for that, I’d take it and run.”

“Mumbai sounds lovely,” Allison brightly smiled and Jack laughed, as she turned to the next page in the target’s dossier.

“Thought so,” he chuckled.

“Still,” she frowned, putting the folder down on the bench and reaching behind her to grab her shirt, “you guys are killin’ me. Chechnya, Turkmenistan, St. Petersburg, and now Mumbai. All solo assignments, all in the last couple months.”

“Poor thing,” he sarcastically frowned. 

“ _You_ sit on these flights and tell me you’re not bored out of your damn mind,” she dared him, giving him a raise of her chin before ducking her head into her combat shirt.

“I would,” he shrugged, “but I’ve got better things to do than watch you sleep on a plane for 10 hours.”

Allison gave him a discerning once over, pulling her shirt down and deciding, “I bet you’re fun on a road trip...”

With a laugh, Jack nodded. “Buy a movie on the plane, read a book,” he told her. “Christ, all the world travel you’ve done between the Army and us and you can’t figure out how to pass the time, Princess?”

She rolled her eyes at the name before going back to her file. “There’s only so many ‘what-if’ scenarios you can imagine about your plane being taken over by terrorists to pass the time before it gets repetitive,” she groused, glancing up from her reading to see him nod his understanding. “But seriously, I keep riding these commercial flights on my own and I’m gonna start sticking out. It’d be too much to ask for a partner to sell a cover I can use and blend in a little easier?”

Rollins folded his arms, conceding, “You have been getting a lot of the work, lately.”

“Nobody’s fault,” she shrugged, studying the picture of the target in the folder. “We’ve all been busy, the three of us trying to do the load of _four_ Horsemen.”

Considering her gripes weren’t unfounded, Jack offered, “What do you need to get it done?”

With a thoughtful pout, Allison shuffled through the papers again. “This?” she mused. “One day for travel, each way. Few days for recon, to develop intel on his schedule and habits; feel him out and find a weak spot in his routine to make a move. I have to be more careful, on my own. Takes a little longer. Home in 7 or 8 days, I’d guess, if all goes well.”

“Sorry we don’t have any extra bodies to spare for you,” he sincerely said. “I’m sure you’ll mange. You always do.”

Allison nodded, a little proud of the small compliment he’d given, before he turned to go. “Hey, what are you doing today?” she asked, having a thought.

“I’ve got Delta’s inspection to get rolling and then training with everyone else,” he answered, turning to go back and stand at the end of the aisle to see her again.

“Play hookie and come help me on the Mumbai job,” she suggested. 

“Not gonna happen,” he told her, with a sweep of his head. “Some of us have real jobs.”

“C’mon,” she invited, before her voice and expression turned weary. “I shouldn’t admit it,” she knew, “but I’m gettin’ burned out, Boss. This’ll be number four in the last two months, _plus_ the squad's regular duty deployments. I could use a hand and you said so yourself, all we’re scheduled for is classroom training this week. It’ll do you a favor and I get a little help so I can maybe wrap this up faster.”

“How’s that a favor for me?” he snorted, leaning his shoulder into the locker beside him.

“Free trip to Mumbai, no mind-numbingly boring lectures, and a ridiculous per diem for meals,” Allison listed. “All you gotta do is stay sober and pretend you like me.”

“Tempting,” he chuckled, “but you’re asking a lot.”

“Which part?” she grinned. “The sobriety or the pretending?” 

“Both,” he deadpanned, not that either would be hard. 

“You’re just still bitter about how our first marriage ended, aren’t you?” Allison laughed. 

“What?” Jack frowned, not following.

“Last year in Columbia,” she reminded him. “Sure, it didn’t last long, but I thought we had a real connection for that whole 30 seconds in the lobby.” 

“Right before I called you an asshole,” he pointed out. 

“You have to admit,” she said, “we had that nice Casablanca ending.”

Jack arched up a dubious brow. “You mean, how he threw her on a plane after all the trouble she was?” 

“Something like that,” Allison agreed, with a waggle of her hand in the air. “Come on. Be a buddy. Come to Mumbai.” 

Rollins turned his eyes up to the ceiling, giving a small shake of his head, already hearing the argument from Rumlow in his head. “So, you’re requesting support on your assignment, now?” he questioned. 

“I am,” she nodded. “Come with me or get me somebody. Please. I’m dying here.”

With a sigh of resignation, Jack straightened up from his lean. “Alright,” he nodded once. “I’ll move it along for approval.”

“You’re gonna wanna get in on this one,” she teased, as he headed for the door. “Think of the per diem!”

Jack laughed, shaking his head on the way out of the locker room. Turning in to the hall toward the elevator, Jack took out his phone to message Rumlow. He sent Addams’ request for an additional operative for a new cover and pocketed his phone. Rollins wasn’t concerned with getting a reply, knowing he would see the Commander momentarily for the daily briefing.

...

After the morning inspection was finished and Brock had relayed the day’s notes and schedule to the squad, they were dismissed to move on to training. Jack was slow to get out of his seat, waiting for Rumlow to gather his paperwork from the podium. As Brock stepped down to meet him, Jack let him know that Fender and Penn had been advised of their temporary assignment for the day.

“Good,” the Commander nodded, as they started for the door. “What’s this about Addams wanting support on her op? Intel on this one says the mission only calls for her. It’s wetwork, not recon.”

“I know,” Jack conceded, “but she says she’s gettin’ burned out. She’s been doing a lot of work, lately. If she had a more flexible cover, she thinks she could meet her objective more easily.” 

“We probably have been leaning on her a bit hard, lately,” Brock realized, pulling the briefing room door open. “Fuckin’ budget cuts won’t let us fill the fourth Horseman position. I’ll be lucky if I get it back next fiscal year.”

“So, we give her a partner,” Rollins reasoned, with a shrug, following him out, “she maybe gets home a little faster, and we give her a couple extra days liberty to shake the last few weeks off.” 

“Problem is, who do we have to send out with her?” he questioned. “I got 13 guys from our squad alone we have to get through these next two days of classes to make sure their records are current, and that includes Strickland. Soloman’s on his own assignment, the other squad's deployed for the next 36 hours, and I got a very short list of leftovers that have experience for that kind of fieldwork.”

“I’ll go,” Jack offered. He surprised himself by how off the cuff he’d made the idea sound. 

“You?” Brock snorted. “And let you skip out on training? _Ha_. If there’s anyone who needs to be reminded of the illegalities of torture, it’s you, big guy.” 

“Being aware of the flexibilities of the legalities isn’t the same thing as not knowing what’s illegal,” he corrected, earning an approving smirk from Rumlow.

“Fair enough,” he tipped his head in concession. “What’s she looking at for her timetable?” 

“Currently, including travel,” Jack said, “optimistically 8 days for arrival, recon, execution of the objective, and exfil.”

“A fuckin’ week,” Brock complained under his breath, scratching at the side of his stubbled jaw. 

Rollins reiterated, “If everything goes well.”

Cocking up a brow, the Commander eyed Jack. “Do I gotta worry about any conduct unbecoming, letting you do this?” 

“You’re fuckin’ kidding me, right?” he scowled, feeling a little insulted, whether Brock was serious or not, despite understanding his concern.

After a moment of contemplation, he nodded once. “Fine,” Rumlow gruffly agreed. “Her request is approved. You’ll be the Lieutenant’s support, but I need you back in the States by Tuesday. I’m out of town that afternoon, in Dover. I need you to stand in for me with Pierce at the meeting on the Hill.” 

“Shouldn’t be a problem,” Jack nodded. 

“Are your covers even current?” Brock snorted, pressing the elevator call button. 

“They are,” he nodded, with a smirk. “Some of us still do actual work.” 

“Watch it, smartass,” he warned. “I could still dig up someone else to send.”

Jack nodded along with the threat, with a smug grin, waiting for the elevator. “You’d be scraping the bottom of the barrel.”


	16. Chapter 16

Feb 2012

While Rollins pulled into a space in the lot at Dulles International Airport, Allison opened a small ziploc bag and let the contents fall into her palm. She tucked the little bag in the center console’s cup holder and picked out a diamond band and solitaire from the trio of rings it had held. Allison arranged the rings on her finger and held up the silver band for Jack to take, as he took the car out of gear and pulled the keys from the ignition. 

“Here,” she said. 

Taking his cell phone from the pocket in the dashboard, he eyed the ring in her hand and deadpanned, “Good to know the romance isn’t gone.” 

“Sorry I didn't get down on one knee,” Allison smirked, popping open her door as Jack slipped the ring on. 

Chuckling to himself, Jack hit the trunk release and got out of their requisitioned car. Allison was already pulling her suitcase out of the trunk, when Jack got around to the back of the car to get his own. He dropped the car keys in his pocket, grabbed his luggage, and shut the trunk. 

“One more thing,” Allison said. Jack pulled up the handle on his suitcase and looked at her to say he was listening. “I need you to kiss me.” 

He cocked up a brow. “What?” 

“Look,” she began, with a sigh, understanding the unusual situation their respective positions in the Division put them in, “we’re supposed to be married. If something comes up and we need to sell it, I can’t look surprised the first time it happens in public. Neither can you.” When he didn’t say anything, she added a resigned, “I don’t like this anymore than you do. If I had more than a day's notice, we could’ve planned this better or created another cover. But once we get on that plane, we’re Mister and Missus.” 

Rollins knew she was serious and didn’t need reminding of the reason she’d make such a request. He just hadn’t considered, or expected, that she’d make it. He nodded to himself and took a step forward, thinking of how awkward the circumstance was, given his position of authority over her, despite knowing anyone who ran these kinds of covers did the same. She had asked and it was for the mission, but it didn’t stop his moment of hesitation. Allison looked up at him, waiting. Jack smoothed his hand around the side of her neck, dipping his chin to press a soft kiss to her lips.

“Married,” she reminded him, a bit aggravated by the lack of effort or seriousness he gave the matter, “not ending a first date.” 

Jack shook his head at her sarcastic critique and moved in again. With his hand still at the nape of her neck, he drew her closer. She followed his cue, when she felt his lips part against hers. The kiss lasted a couple of seconds, before Rollins withdrew his hand from her and stepped back to grab the handle of his suitcase again.

“Better?” he checked, trying to sound as disinterested as he could. 

“Yeah,” she nodded, and Rollins started for the terminal doors.

Allison pressed her lips together, quietly clearing her throat as she turned to catch up with him a few steps ahead of her. She hadn’t expected the flutter she felt in her belly during the second kiss. After all, it was just business. The kiss was a formality. Procedural, really. But it was also good. Allison shook her head clear and checked her watch as they walked.

Rollins glanced at her from the side of his eye, as they stepped over the curb to the parking garage elevators. If she had any reaction to the kiss, she showed no signs. The moment seemed to be just another checkmark on a list of to-dos for the mission for her. It wasn’t at all how he imagined kissing her for the first time would be. 

Their flight out of DC was on schedule. In the air, Allison spent her time studying the dossier on her target, reading from the file copied to her phone and committing every detail to memory. Jack familiarized himself with what he needed to know and passed some of the time watching a movie. They both were able to sleep some on the overnight flight. Their layover in Dubai was just over an hour, before touching down in Mumbai.

Like the other tourists, Jack and Allison took a shuttle to the hotel from the airport. They checked in and got the keys to their suite. Allison’s target, an unscrupulous business man with ties to terrorists in the Middle East, had the presidential suite on the same floor a few doors down. While she had no other direct support besides Rollins, surveillance equipment and weapons were waiting for them in their room. When the assignment was finished, the equipment would be collected by the same unseen agents who had snuck it in. 

“Always nice to have a man around to do the heavy lifting,” Allison joked, as she pushed back the gauzy curtains in the living area of the suite to see the ocean view and Jack moved the luggage to the bedroom. 

Jack gave a snort of derision, shaking his head as he stood up the pair of suitcases at the foot of the bed. “We’ll be divorced just as fast as the last time,” he called back to her, “if you keep sassing me. Remember, I’m doing you a favor... _again_.” 

“Point taken,” she grumbled, coming in to look over the second room. 

Rollins stepped around the side of the bed, picking up a large pelican case off the floor to set on the mattress. He unsnapped the latches and flipped open the lid to inspect the contents. He lifted up a tray of ammo, weapons, and rifle parts, setting it aside to reveal another set of foam cut outs housing extra loaded magazines and the comms and video equipment beneath it. Allison came around to join him, reaching across him to pull out a Walther tucked into the side of the weapons tray. While Allison inspected the gun, Jack made a quick visual inventory of the other gear. There was already a small station set up on the dresser with a laptop, compact printer, and secure satellite phone to connect to the communications hub at the Triskelion.

“Don’t dick around on this one,” he told her, picking up the small box of wireless, pinhole cameras. “I need to be back in the office by Tuesday morning.” 

“See,” she grinned, grabbing a holster for the Walther and a loaded magazine, “this is why our first marriage failed.” Allison seated the magazine, racked the slide, and put the gun into its holster, laying it on top of her suitcase on her way out of the room. “You always put your job ahead of me.” 

“You _are_ my job,” he dryly reminded her and he heard her laugh from the other room, as he loaded a pistol of his own and holstered it to clip inside his waistband, tugging his shirt over the gun to hide it.

They spent the next hour getting organized, checking equipment, and unpacking the few things from their luggage they would need for the night. The target was scheduled for a late arrival, giving Jack plenty of time to hide micro-cameras near the suite down the hall. He and Allison took a leisurely walk around the lobby, pretending to take in the stylish decor and look at brochures while they spotted the best places to stash additional cameras to keep an eye on the exits.

Back in their suite, Allison set up the monitor and controls for their cameras on the corner of the bedroom dresser. She pressed a button to check the audio from the cameras’ mics, as a hotel staffer walked down the hall. She made a few adjustments to the stick on the small console, orienting the different cameras’ views to be upright, before a nod of approval and announcing, “All set.”

They ordered Room Service and waited. Allison sat on the corner of the bed, eating with her feet crossed under her and her plate on the mattress. She watched a movie on the TV mounted on the wall behind their surveillance set up. In the other room, Jack checked, oiled, and assembled the rifle provided for Allison, if her best approach to eliminating the target came from a distance. He ate his meal in spurts, having a bite here and there as he worked. 

In the bedroom, the secure satellite phone to the Triskelion rang and it pulled Jack’s attention up from the rifle’s assembly. He couldn’t hear Allison’s reply over the soft sound of the television in the other room, but a few minutes later she came into the living room, carrying her empty plate in one hand and her bottle of water in the other, bare feet padding softly across the polished wood floor. She put her dish back on the Room Service tray on the dining table, explaining the phone call saying, “The TOC. Target's plane just landed. He should be here in about an hour.”

Jack nodded, going back to finishing the function test on her gun. Satisfied, he passed the rifle off to Addams when she came over to join him on the couch. Allison tucked in the stock of the weapon into her shoulder, peering down the sights to make some adjustments.

“Thank you,” she told him, leaning out to prop the rifle against the end of the coffee table. Rollins was chewing a bite of his lukewarm dinner and gave a nod of welcome. “Maybe you‘re not such a terrible husband after all,” she winked. 

“Very funny,” he said, around a mouthful of food, taking up his plate to lean back on the couch. 

“Aww. What’s ‘a matter?” she frowned. “That little ring on your finger making your skin burn?”

Jack gave a snort of amusement, glancing down at the silver band on his finger. “I’ve been through worse hell than pretending to be married to you for a week,” he assured her.

Allison laughed, grabbing her water off the table. “You should make a note, Jack,” she told him, making a small gesture his way. “You ever do get married, silver is the way to go for you.”

...

“Looks like he’s not going anywhere tonight,” Jack decided, turning his wrist on top of his crossed arms to check his watch. “It’s 10:30.” 

Nodding her agreement, Allison stretched, saying, “Recon starts in the morning then. Hopefully, he’s a fan of breakfast before he starts his nefarious deeds for the day.”

Rollins snuffled a laugh, sitting up from his deep lean in the chair he’d pushed over from the corner of the room. He stood up and moved the chair aside to walk around. Jack repacked the few loose items from the case of equipment, closing the lid and putting it back on the floor. He grabbed a pillow off the bed and walked past Allison in her spot at the foot of the mattress.

“We not gonna Ro Sham Bo for the bed?” she wondered, unfolding her feet to stand up. 

“You can have it,” he told her. “I’ll take the couch.” 

“And my mother says you're no good to me,” Allison teased.

Jack stopped in the doorway, arching up a brow. “I thought your mother was dead...” 

“She is,” she grinned. “And we’re not really married. This is all pretend, remember?”

He pointed a finger at her, saying, “ _This_ is why our first marriage failed. All your lies ruined us.” 

Feb 2012

“It’s creepy, the way you do that.” 

“Do what?” he distractedly asked, eyes fixed on the monitor and unaffected by Allison finally stirring. 

Allison stretched her arms up overhead and shifted to prop herself to lean up on her elbow. “Always showing up in my hotel bedroom when I’m sleeping. Bogota, now here.”

Jack smirked. “It’s the only way I can stand being in the same room as you.” 

“I want a divorce,” she flatly announced. 

“Fine,” he shrugged, completely indifferent. “How’s Friday sound to you?” 

“Perfect,” Allison happily agreed, flipping the covers aside to get out of bed.

Rollins snorted, looking over his shoulder to see her cross the room and disappear into the bathroom. He stared for a moment, even after the door shut behind her, savoring the sight of her in the snug tank top and shorts she’d slept in, before turning his attention back to the screen. 

“Jesus,” he muttered to himself, shaking the image from his head and trying to remember decorum. He realized he maybe hadn’t completely thought through his decision to play her cover on the op, given his personal interest in her. Needing to get his bearing again, he briefed her that, “He hasn’t left the room yet. I ran the footage back from overnight. He’s still there.” 

The bathroom door opened and Allison came back into the room, crawling across the mattress to sit on her shins in her spot from the night before in front of the monitor. “Good. That means we can order breakfast.” 

“Priorities,” Jack facetiously agreed. He looked over his shoulder. “What if he goes downstairs to eat and you’re sittin’ here stuffing your face?” 

“Then you should be a _good_ husband and go downstairs, get a table nearby, order me some coffee, get me a menu, and wait patiently for me to catch up,” she told him, with a sassy tip of her head. 

“How many breakfasts are you going to eat?” he quirked up an incredulous brow. 

“It’s the most important meal of the day,” she noted. 

He held up a finger, correcting, “ _Meal_ , singular. Not meals.” 

“So, what?” she scowled. “You saying you only married me for my figure? That’s shallow, Rollins. Even for you.” 

“What can I say?” he unapologetically shrugged. “I’m a guy.” Jack put his hands on his knees, pushing to stand up from his chair. “Besides, I’m pretty sure you only married me for my money.” 

“I’d never marry a man for less that a Lt. Commander's salary,” she stuffily agreed. 

“That’s my little trophy wife,” he winked, heading for the door to get the in-room menu. 

She shook her head with a smile, thoroughly amused by how much fun she was having on this assignment. Allison got up, tugging her suitcase up to lay on the bed. She was just digging around for a fresh change of clothes, when Rollins came back in and held out the menu for her to take. They decided to order breakfast and get ready. If the target left his room, they could always just walk away from their food and get something else later.

...

The target didn’t leave until just before noon. Seeing him shut his suite door behind him, Allison and Jack hurried to their own door, following him down the hall toward the elevator. The three rode the elevator down together, with Jack’s arm around Allison for appearances. She commented to Jack that they needed to find a store to buy sunscreen while they were out, pretending it hadn’t been packed. The target, overhearing them, thoughtfully chimed in that the hotel gift shop could help. Allison thanked him, wearing a grin for the small interaction with the man. It helped sell the vacationing couple cover and would make him more comfortable seeing her and Jack around. 

Downstairs, Rollins and Addams veered off as if they were going to the gift shop, as the target forgot about them and went to the curb to get in a taxi. SHIELD had a car on the street for Allison and Jack. It was a couple years old and blended in with the local traffic. Jack drove, while Allison took photos and kept notes of everything the target did; where he stopped and for how long, photographing anyone he spoke to, and anything else they saw. It was a long afternoon, made tolerable by a quick snack grabbed from a street vendor during one of the stops.

It was after sunset, before they followed the target back to the hotel. Allison was pleased to see the man go in to one of the hotel restaurants, seeming to be winding down his day. She and Jack waited several minutes in the lobby seating area, making sure the target was there to stay, before they casually went in for their own table.

After the late meal alone, the target went back up to his suite and Jack and Allison did the same. Allison sat on the bed, going over her notes she had made throughout the day. Jack kept an eye on the cameras, making sure the target didn't step out for a night cap. 

Checking an update on her phone, Allison told Jack, “They finally got into this guy's phone.” She scrolled down her screen. “He’s got an appointment tomorrow at 1, but it doesn’t say where. A dinner reservation at 5:30.” She frowned. “Doesn’t say where. ...God,” she complained, “doesn’t this guy know how to use a calendar? Fill in the blanks. Date, time, people, place. For fuck’s sake.” 

Rollins snorted, shaking his head at her frustration. “Anything else?” he wondered. 

“Not really,” she defeatedly admitted. “He really might just be here on vacation.” 

“If they’re in his phone, they’re tapping calls,” he patiently reminded her. “Intel will fill out soon.”

After only a few days traveling and working with Addams, Rollins was surprised how fluid and natural everything seemed to be. They split time watching the monitor, reviewing tape, and reading transcripts the TOC updated them with, breaking the other from the monotonous work seamlessly, with a simple jut of the chin to make the other move or tap on the shoulder to trade spots. Even getting in and out of the shared bathroom in the mornings wasn’t a hassle.

Without question, Allison was good at her job. What surprised her was how good at it Jack was, as well. Rollins seemed to be naturally skilled at spycraft. Allison knew he had some previous experience with clandestine ops like this on his résumé, but she hadn’t expected him to drop in to the work again so effortlessly, after essentially being a grunt and in a command position for so long. She didn’t need to give him much, if any, direction. They just seemed to be in sync naturally.

For his part, Jack enjoyed watching Allison work. It’d been a long time since he saw the finesse of this kind of assignment firsthand. His work had been decidedly more aggressive, over the last few years. Recon, for him, was confirming work done by others for him to execute assaults, raids, and ambushes. The subtlety and intricacy of stalking a target and developing your own plan as its parts presented itself was a surprisingly nice change of pace. He’d almost forgotten the effort that goes into certain parts of the job. And there was a kind of elegance to it, watching Addams orchestrate it all.

In view of the public doing surveillance, they wasted time bullshitting like anyone else. Silence was a give away. People- normal, everyday, oblivious people talked. They laughed and gestured, ate and looked around. Regular people do so much without realizing they do, and it’s the absence of that distracted busywork of real life that makes spies, especially on their own, stand out. And it was that regular conversation that amused and intrigued Jack the most, hearing a little bit more about her and trading war stories. 

Their observations and communications were so simple and seamless, the operators themselves scarcely lost a beat. Their work may as well have been the background to a relaxing road trip between friends. It couldn’t be working any better. He wouldn’t complain either about the times he and Allison held hands or she walked under his arm to promote the cover of being a married couple on holiday.

Back in their room on the third night of the op, Allison grabbed the menu off the table and thumbed through it, on her way back to the bedroom. Putting a knee down, she crawled to lay across the foot of the bed, propping herself up on her elbows and smacking the back of the menu book into Jack’s arm for his attention.

He turned his head, scowling down at her and raising a brow. “That’s domestic violence, you know.”

“You gonna tell everyone you got beat up by your wife?” she fiendishly grinned. She batted her eyes up at him. “Defenseless little thing like me?”

Rollins flashed a condescending smile. “No,” he shook his head. “I’ll just turn you in at the airport for the murder of the target, when we leave.” 

“You wouldn’t dare,” she assured him, going back to reading the menu. “You couldn’t find a better wife.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” he snorted. “We don’t even sleep in the same room. Literally, anyone else would be an improvement.”

“Whatever,” she grinned. “I’m hungry. You want anything?”

Jack set his gaze back on the monitor and settled a little further into his lean back in the chair, shrugging, “I could eat.” 

She nodded, reaching out to hand Jack the menu. “Let me know and I’ll phone it in.”


	17. Chapter 17

Feb 2012

They both kept watch of the cameras, while they ate. They agreed, it looked like the target was in for the night by 8 o’clock and Allison mentioned she might just knock on his door and kill him in the middle of the night. Jack suggested they wait and give it another day, hoping they could avoid doing wetwork at the hotel and keep the risk of discovery a little lower. Allison agreed, not seeming to care one way or the other, and Jack was happy for the chance to have a little more time with her away from work.

And it was lucky for them. No one was expecting the group of guests that came up to the target’s suite an hour later. There was no mention of the event in the target’s calendar or in any recent communiques SHIELD was monitoring. None of the people’s faces raised any alarms or suspicions as known associates, but Allison and Jack sent stills of the video back to the Triskelion for analysis anyway. The party enjoyed an extremely large order from Room Service, that included bottles of champagne on ice, and Rollins and Addams waited, watching the cameras in the hall.

“Bet it’s a hell of a party,” Allison grumbled. 

“What,” Jack grinned, “you’re not having any fun?”

“I bet money,” she began, pointing accusingly at the monitor, “those women were hookers. Those pricks are in there living it up, while we’re stuck here waiting...bored and sober.” 

Rollins couldn’t help the chuckle that shook his shoulders. “Jealous?” he cocked up a brow. “Want me to ring the concierge and see what they can arrange for you?” 

“Oh, please,” she rolled her eyes. She went back to picking at her plate, her brow furrowing as she incredulously griped, “And what kind of twisted, open marriage do we have that you’d get me a male prostitute anyway?”

Jack held up his hands. “Hey, I’m just trying to help,” he shrugged. “Been that long, huh?”

“Yeah, well,” she grumbled, pausing to chew and swallow her food. “...been a little too busy for dating, lately.”

His brow involuntarily rose, caught off guard and intrigued by the complaint. Allison saw and frowned, putting down her fork. She gave a small huff, uncrossing her legs to stand up from her corner of the bed. “Don’t judge me,” she scowled at him, turning out of the room to get another drink from the suite's mini-fridge. 

“I didn’t say anything,” he reminded her.

Coming back into the bedroom, Allison pointed a finger off her bottle of soda at him, saying, “You don’t have to. I see it.”

“I’m not judging,” he assured her, showing her his palms in surrender. “I just...thought you were back to dating again, after your fiancé. That’s all.” 

“Ha,” she scoffed. “The way you bastards have been running my ass ragged? Who has the time? Better yet, who’d put up with me and my schedule anyway?”

“Damn.” He shook his head, trying not to laugh at her candor and obvious frustration. “You sure you don’t want me to call the concierge?” Rollins smirked. “I can go take a walk, go for a swim or something. I mean, you already have the bedroom.” 

“Worst husband ever,” she sharply told him, throwing the cap of her bottle at him. Jack knocked the cap away, sniggering. “You could try to show a little sympathy,” she frowned.

“I assure you, darling wife,” he sarcastically promised, “I’m not without sympathy. But that’s about all the rules let me do to help fix your problem.” 

“You’re such an asshole,” she rolled her eyes, trying not to smile into her drink at his sarcasm.

Wearing a smug grin, Rollins added, “Don’t say I didn’t offer.” 

“To get me a hooker?” she laughed. “Yeah.” She gave him a facetious thumbs up and an exaggerated nod. “Thanks, buddy.“

“Take it however you want,” he shrugged, before realizing that wasn’t necessarily a comment he should have made aloud and Allison about choked on her soda. “You alright?” he checked. 

She held back another cough, wiping her hand at her chin, just in case she’d spilled her drink. “ _Excuse me_?” she begged, her cheeks still a bit flushed from her near spit take. “Did you just-“ 

“No,” he swept his head, getting up from his seat to pick up his empty plate and not entirely sure the flush in her cheeks wasn’t from some embarrassment of his comment. “I believe there’s three regulations that address fraternization.” He knew he’d gone too far and he had to pull back. Turning in to the next room, he added, “That would be inappropriate between officers, Lieutenant.” By himself in the living room, he said under his breath, “And it’s a fuckin’ shame.”

He took his time going back, helping himself to a water from the fridge and taking a long drink. Jack shook his head at himself for letting their banter stray so far from professional. Hell, he wasn’t even sure if Addams considered them friends enough to each other to have such a casual conversation, even outside of work. Rollins tried to consider the best approach for damage control, before going back to his seat in the other room. 

“I didn’t mean to be insulting,” he began, rounding in through the doorway toward his chair, “or imply-“ 

“No,” Allison waved him off, her face wincing for not wanting to have an awkward conversation and only just recovering from her surprise at the comment. She should’ve known it was a joke, right? Just Rollins giving her shit again. “No, it’s my fault for-“ She shook her head. “Ya know what? Never mind. I know, it was a joke. No offense taken, or meant.” 

“Exactly,” he agreed, as if he had any other option. It would be awkward enough for the rest of the night, without trying to test the waters of her interest or trying to explain his. “Just bustin’ your balls. Didn’t mean to step over any lines.” 

“No harm, no foul,” she said, taking up her fork and waiting for her pulse to settle again. 

“Good,” he nodded, shifting to get comfortable in his chair again.

It was agreed that they had made a lucky decision to give it another day on the assignment. The target’s impromptu party the night before would have surely interrupted Allison’s plan. They'd made it through the rest of the night and the better part of the next day, keeping the conversation light or strictly on business. Jack was definitely making a concerted effort to mind what he said.

The subtle tension between her and Rollins didn’t escape Allison’s notice. She was aware the conversation came a little more slowly than it had the days before. She tried to contribute it to the late night they had, staying up to see when and that all of the guests left for the night from the target’s suite. But she couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that there was something a little off between them, after their miscued talk the night before. It wasn’t until well into the evening that Allison had the nerve to even ask about any lingering misunderstanding between them.

Carefully threading the suppressor in her fingertips on to her gun, Allison watched Jack from the side of her eye, as he checked their two-way comms, wondering, “Is there something weird about today to you?” 

“No,” he frowned, with a quick shrug, closing the small box in his hand and tucking it away into a cutout in the pelican case. Rollins wasn’t oblivious to the awkwardness in the air between them, but he had no plans of his own to bring it up. “Why?” 

“Nothing,” she shook her head, feeling a little foolish for asking in the first place.

Rollins eyed her over, as she turned toward the nightstand to pick up a pair of gloves, wondering if he was off the mark and she meant there was something amiss with the assignment. “You sure?”

She flashed a smile and hummed with her nod. “Must be me. Must still be a little jet lagged.” 

“Probably,” he casually agreed, walking around the end of the bed to hand her her comms device and a card to bypass the lock on the target’s door, if needed. Addams set the device over her ear and Jack caught a look at the feed from her camera on the monitor. He stepped up, moving some stray hairs back behind her ear to keep out of the way of the lens and her mic. 

“Thanks,” she said, managing to hide the unexplained shyness she felt tug her gut when he touched her hair and his fingertips brushed over her ear.

Walking back to the console on the dresser, Jack tucked his earwig into place and asked Allison for a mic check. With the successful test of the comms, Jack told her the video feed from her device was good as well. She press checked her gun, as Rollins told her he was ready whenever she was.

Jack would cover Allison from their suite, watching the cameras to warn her over the radio of anyone coming. If she got herself into any trouble, he had his own weapon silenced and holstered in a rig under his arm. From the monitor, he watched as Allison knocked on the target’s door. The man answered and she took her shot, putting a round between his eyes before he’d even raised his gaze to fully see who was at his door. She put up her hand, pushing the target to fall backward into the suite, when he began to crumple forward. Allison slipped into the target’s suite without notice, taking her time to search for and copy or photograph with a micro-camera anything of intelligence value for SHIELD, before returning to her suite as quietly as she’d left, as if nothing had happened. 

“See how easy that was?” Allison grinned, coming in to the bedroom. 

“Nice work,” he nodded, still watching the cameras to be sure no one saw or heard anything.

Allison took off her comms, tossing the device to land in the equipment case and dropping onto her side along the end of the bed. She was quiet for a minute, watching the monitor with Jack, her head propped up on her upturned fist and her gun lying under her hand on the mattress in front of her. Getting up to go to the bathroom, Jack couldn’t help but smirk. 

“You look like a pinup for Soldier of Fortune,” he teased, shaking his head. 

“It’s about time you realized I’m not just your trophy wife. I earn my keep,” she called after him, smiling to herself at knowing they had relaxed with each other again.

No one came to the target’s suite overnight. They stayed up late and ran back the overnight footage of the hallway, first thing in the morning, just to be certain. He and Allison stayed another night. They had time to spare and Rollins would still be in DC for his Tuesday meeting. The overlap between their departure and the target’s time of death would help remove any suspicions of the foreigners’ involvement.

They packed up the equipment and weapons and stepped out for lunch at a local restaurant. Being seen by hotel cameras and staff continuing to do normal touristy things added further credibility to their cover. They split up after lunch, Jack going back to the hotel while Allison wandered off to do some shopping. By the time he returned to their suite, the extra equipment was gone, recovered by the agents who had snuck it into the room in the first place. He kicked off his shoes, turning on the television in the bedroom and taking the opportunity to stretch out on the unused half of the bed and give his back a break from the couch.

A couple of hours later, Allison came in. She followed the sounds of the TV into the bedroom, dropping a shopping bag and her purse on top of her suitcase near the windows. She eyed Jack relaxing on the bed, with his arm folded comfortably behind his head propped up on a pillow and against the headboard, feet crossed at the ankles. He gave her a nod of acknowledgment and she did the same, leaving her sandals by her suitcase and going into the bathroom. Jack threw a glance at the bathroom door, hearing the water come on. 

Allison dipped her fingers into the running water, testing the temperature of her bath. A honey based gel added bubbles and an inviting smell to the water, from the hotel’s luxurious toiletries on the vanity. She soaked in the tub, pampering herself for a job done well and finished early, until the water began to cool. While the tub drained, she took a quick shower and wrapped herself up in one of the plush hotel robes. She combed out her hair and gathered up her clothes to put back in her suitcase. Jack was still watching TV and she glanced at the movie on her way through the room. 

“Kill Bill, huh?” she mused, walking across his view to stuff her handful of clothes in her suitcase. 

“Not much on,” he shrugged, eyes following her across the room before they went back to the screen and he could be noticed. 

“Not complaining,” she said, folding a foot underneath her to sit on the side of the bed. Allison looked over her shoulder, feeling the mattress shift, and saw Jack move over toward the far side of the bed. Not that he was anywhere close to intruding on the half of the king size bed she’d been using during the trip. Nevertheless, she flashed an appreciative grin for the extra room and scooted back to sit up against the headboard. “Thanks,” she said.

“Don’t mention it,” he told her, his chin lifting in a half-assed nod of welcome. He couldn’t quite name the sweet smell that drifted over when she’d sat down, but he wasn’t opposed by any means. Needing a distraction, Jack glanced at the shopping bag on the side of the room. “Out spending all my money again, darling?” 

“I don’t know what else you think a trophy wife does,” she quirked up a brow, purposefully trying to ignore how she liked the way he said the pet name, sarcastic as it was, “but it sounds like your expectations might need to be lowered.” 

Jack smirked, his attention already back on the television. “No, I think they’re right on the mark,” he said, ticking out fingers as he listed, “Wasting my money, ignoring me and doing whatever the hell you want, walking around like you’re god’s gift.” His head lolled over to see her. “That about sum it up?” 

Allison made an indifferent cock of her head, quipping, “You knew what this marriage was when you signed up.” 

“Probably cheating on me, too, aren’t ya?” he mused with a grin, his gaze back on the movie. 

“I need a Plan B,” she agreed, sitting up to adjust the pillow behind her, “for when all your money’s gone.” 

Rollins snorted, shaking his head. “You coldhearted bitch.” 

Allison chuckled and lifted her elbow to nudge to his arm. “Hey, thanks for coming along,” she offered. “Believe it or not, having the company really made a difference.” 

He glanced at her from the side of his eye. “Don’t mention it, Princess.” 

She shook her head, with a tight smile. “You know,” she began, “I think I’ve proven more than enough that I can carry my own weight. I don’t know why you keep calling me that.” 

A fiendishly proud smirk tugged up the side of his mouth, as he said, “Because it amuses me to get a rise out of you when I do.” He didn’t need to look to know he’d done it again. “Case in point.” 

She gave him a disapproving sweep of her head. “God, you’re an ass,” she frowned, swinging her foot over to kick his leg. 

Jack chuckled, still watching the movie, and Allison huffed beside him. “Don’t pout, Princess,” he dryly teased. “I’m not paying for your vanity plastic surgery to fix those frown lines.” 

Allison’s mouth fell open, a cough of a mildly offended laugh coming out, before muttering, “Thank god it’s Friday.”

“Why’s that?” he asked, moving his hand from behind his pillow to fold both arms comfortably across his chest.

“Because you promised me a divorce on Friday,” she reminded him.

With an indifferent rise in his brow, he shrugged, deciding, “Granted. I expect you to move out by the morning.” 

“I’ll be happy to,” she said, with a condescending nod, intently watching the movie as if she were trying to ignore him. 

He watched her pursed lips crack into a smile, knowing that he was staring at her, and he promised, “You’ll miss me, when I’m gone.”

Her brow wagged up, arrogantly assuring him, “Oh, I’m sure it’ll be the other way around.” 

“I guess,” he sarcastically nodded. Rollins waited a beat. “But we’ll still see each other around, right?” 

“Well, I’ll need some of my three days liberty to mourn the end of the relationship,” she conceded, “and, of course, you’ll need yours to drink yourself stupid and realize what a mistake it was to let me go, but I’m sure we’ll run into each other at work.” 

“A mistake?” he questioned, arching up a brow. She nodded, as he watched her get up to head for the other room and said after her, “Hell, we've barely spent five, very unimaginative minutes in bed together while we’ve been married. I can’t _wait_ to be a free man again.” 

A minute later, Allison came back into the room, thumbing through the Room Service menu. “Go ahead. Whore it up. See if I care,” she shrugged. “I’ll just be over here spending every last dime of the per diem on dinner.” 

Rollins laughed. “My little gold digger,” he smirked. 

Allison flashed an innocent grin, holding the book out as she sat on her side of the bed. “Care to join me, for old time’s sake?” 

He snorted, shaking his head. Jack sat up, swinging his feet down to the floor and deciding, “If we're going to celebrate our divorce, we should go out with a bang.” He stood up, telling her, “Throw on something respectable, and we’ll go downstairs. There’s more ways to burn through money down there.” 

“Challenge accepted,” she smiled, dropping the in-room menu on the bed. 


	18. Chapter 18

Feb 2012

Undercover surveillance assignments and wetwork require a variety of equipment to handle every scenario, and that includes a variety of clothing options to be able to blend in to any environment the operative may encounter. Under the guise of a married couple traveling, it meant Jack had a suit and Allison had a dress, to meet the expectations of the hotel’s dress code for their more elegant dining fare. 

Seated across from each other at a table for two, the waiter handed them the evening’s menu, asking if they were celebrating any special occasion. Jack snuffled a laugh, when Allison answered, “Yes. Our divorce.” and the young man’s jaw slacked open, not knowing what to say. Allison grinned and Jack rescued the waiter, telling him they were just on vacation and ordering a whiskey for himself. 

Rollins chuckled, shaking his head after the waiter had gone to the bar with their drink order. “Poor guy.”

“What?” Allison innocently begged, with a shrug. “He asked...” 

“You gotta tell everyone our business?” he complained in jest, looking over the menu. 

“Aww,” she pouted, patting her hand over his across the table. “The wound’s still bleeding, huh?” 

Jack’s shoulders shook with the laughter he held back. He turned his hand over, curling her fingers over his to hold, deadpanning, “As much as this steak I’m going to order for dinner is gonna be.” 

“My god, you sure know how to talk to a woman,” Allison only somewhat facetiously swooned, taking her hand back to pick up her menu again. “It’s a shame we’re breaking up.” 

He smirked at her smile, with a subtle bob of his head. “Told ya, you’ll miss me,” he arrogantly said. 

“I knew you’d be fun on a road trip,” she nodded to herself, her eyes perusing the menu. “It’s almost a shame to go back to work on Wednesday and have the Commander back again.”

“It is a shame, isn’t it?” he distractedly agreed, as the waiter came back with his Glenfiddich. 

Allison pressed her lips together, holding back a smile and taking one last peek at the menu, while Jack ordered. She ordered a steak for herself and a glass of wine, with an appetizer of calamari and prawns to share. There was a lull between them, filled by the quiet music playing in the restaurant and the murmur of conversations from nearby tables. 

Jack sipped his whiskey, letting the warm liquor roll around his tongue, while he watched Allison looking around for any distraction. To fill the silence, he wondered, “You need me to do any of the paperwork?” 

She grinned at the helpful offer, politely declining with a small shake of her head. “No, thanks. It was pretty uncomplicated. And I prefer to write as I go, so there‘s not much to do but tidy up a bit, really.” 

He hummed, with a small nod of acknowledgement. The meal was basically that, a series of failed starters, in between service from their waiter. There was a kind of sullenness in the air and by the time the waiter left to put in their order for coffee and dessert, Jack mustered the nerve to mention it. 

“You alright, Princess?” he asked. 

She flashed grin at the kindness in the question, not hearing any insult in the name this time. “Yeah. Of course. Why?” 

With a thoughtful pout, he shook his head. “Nothing. Just...you haven’t said much. Something wrong with dinner?” 

“No,” she assured him. “It was delicious. Definitely worth blowing the per diem on,” she winked. 

Jack quietly snorted. “Good.” 

“Guess I’m just not looking forward to going home,” she admitted. 

“Why not?” he questioned, a wrinkle of curiosity in his brow, and a passing idiotic thought that she might say it was for anything to do with him. “I thought you needed a break. Got a few days off comin’...”

“I do,” she couldn’t disagree. Yet Allison tittered, knowing it was foolish to explain, “But somehow having this free day at the end of the assignment, overseas at a fancy hotel, kinda feels like I just started a vacation, ya know? When I get on that plane tomorrow, I’m already back to work, filing the AAR, debriefing...” The corners of her mouth turned down. “I know,” she waved her hand dismissively, “sounds stupid.” 

Rollins considered her answer, watching her smile her thanks at the waiter bringing her dessert and his coffee. He waited for their server to leave, before saying, “We see you, you know. All the hours, the extra assignments for the Horsemen.” 

“Yeah,” she quietly acknowledged, dipping her spoon into her crème brûlée. 

He understood her skepticism. “I already mentioned to Bingo that we maybe need to give you some time to shake off the last several weeks,” he told her. “We understand the pressure you guys are under, while we can’t fill the fourth position. You more than the others, lately.” 

“Giving me time off?” she worried, immediately thinking she’d dug a hole for herself. “Like, sending me out to the Farm?” 

“No,” he chuckled. “Just authorizing you time off, even though it wouldn’t meet the requirements for leave requests.” 

Allison wasn’t one for shirking responsibility and pointed out, “I have the usual three days liberty coming. That’ll be enough.” 

“You said so yourself,” he reminded her, “you’re getting burned out.” 

“Just a phrase. I was just bitching,” she excused. “I’m fine.” 

“I can’t allow a fatigued operator in the field. You know that,” Jack firmly said. “It won't be a mark against you.” 

Allison rolled her eyes. “Fatigued is a strong word.” 

“I’ve never seen anyone try so hard to argue their way out of a couple extra days off,” he snorted, with a sweep of his head. “It’s not a punishment, Princess. I’m trying to do you a favor.” 

She nodded along, taking time to slowly realize it maybe wasn’t such a bad idea. “A favor from Jack Rollins,” she eventually mused. “S’pose that means I’d owe you one in return then.” 

“I wouldn’t make it anything you couldn’t handle,” he grinned. “So, we go home tomorrow, add two days to your earned liberty, and we’ll see you on Friday.” 

“I don’t really have a choice, do I?” she figured, spooning up another bite of her dessert. 

Rollins shook his head. “No. Just go ahead and consider the discussion closed.” 

Allison swallowed her bite and scooped another on her spoon, while Jack drank from his coffee. “Guess you’re probably waiting for a ‘thank you’...” she jokingly grumbled. 

A smirk came to him, as he set down his mug. “As the grossly under-appreciated ex-husband that I am,” he quipped, “I won’t hold my breath.” 

“Well, I suppose there are worse ways to spend Valentine's Day,” she shrugged, “than at a five star hotel in Mumbai. Even if it is with your two-time ex-husband-slash-boss.”

Looking up from setting his cup back on its saucer, Jack really hadn’t considered the day’s date, what with being so far from home and working. He hummed quietly and chuckled, meaning to hide the mild embarrassment of not realizing what day it was and being aware of all the husband and wife jokes that had been made recently. “Well, since we’ve been divorced again for a couple hours, I’m sure you can’t be too mad that I didn’t get you flowers. Just add it to the list of things you’ll complain about to your girlfriends, proving what an awful guy I am.”

“Nah,” she grinned. “Hasn’t been completely awful.” There was a pause, while she regretted the possibly overly flattering comment and ate her next taste of dessert, before she offered, “Sorry, by the way. Wasn’t thinking about Valentine's coming up during this trip. Just wasn’t personally in that kind of headspace, so...ya know. I mean, I know it would have been a wrench in the works for anyone who came with me, but still...I hope you’re not in too much trouble for missing any big plans, or something.” 

“There was nothing,” he admitted. 

“Oh,” she quietly said, her gaze falling back to her spoon in her dish, feeling a little self-conscious for the passing relief she felt at his reply. “Well,” she cleared her throat, pinning on a pleasant smile, “good. At least you won’t hold that against me for dragging you along.” 

“I wouldn’t worry about it. I seem to recall volunteering,” Jack told her, with an easy grin ahead of his next sip.

The conversation lagged again. Rollins drank his coffee, while Addams ate her dessert. The silence lasted for several minutes, but wasn't entirely uncomfortable. In the in between, Jack signed the dinner charges to their room.

Jack took the last drink of his coffee and another look around the restaurant, seeing Allison had finished her dessert. “Time to call it a night, I suppose.” 

With a nod of agreement, Allison laid her napkin on the table to stand. She picked up her purse, as Jack stood waiting, adjusting the sleeve of his jacket at the cuff. He didn’t notice Allison giving him a once over, inexplicably admiring him in the suit, before she caught herself. She put her attention to pushing in her chair, a little flustrated to have it occur to her that this was the first time she’d seen him in a suit and trying to ignore the stray thought of how well he wore it.

“All set?” he checked, looking up again. 

Allison nodded, with a quiet hum and quick grin. Rollins reached a hand behind her, gesturing her to walk ahead of him with the other. Leaving the restaurant, he moved to walk beside her, casually draping his arm around her waist. At the elevator he took his arm back to lean over and press the call button. Allison watched him move, her gaze drifting down to his hand nonchalantly taking hers while they waited. She looked up to watch the floor numbers count down on the display above the elevator doors for a distraction.

Next to her, Jack’s gaze absentmindedly wandered over the art on the walls, until the elevator car arrived. He followed Allison inside and pressed the button for their floor. Alone in the car, Allison took her hand back to lean comfortably against the back wall of the elevator. Jack turned, resting against the next wall to see her. The car hadn’t left before someone managed to hit the button fast enough for the doors to open again. A group came in, laughing among themselves, and Allison moved over to Jack and his spot near the corner to accommodate the other riders. He lifted his arm, making room for her as she came in to his side in the newly crowded car, as the elevator finally began to rise.

Jack looked down at Allison, her shoulder tucked under his arm, one arm hugged behind him and her other hand comfortably on his side to take up the smallest amount of real estate in the bustling car. Allison smiled, taking a compliment from a woman whose English was just good enough for Allison to understand her saying she liked her earrings, oblivious to Jack’s attention. The elevator slowed to a stop and Rollins excused their way to the front of the car, keeping his arm around Allison. The doors opened to their floor and the pair stepped out, turning down the hall for their suite.

They nodded to a couple passing in the hall, as Jack tightened his arm around Allison to move her at his side and give the strangers more room to pass. She stayed there, aware that the other couple was still in view, as Jack reached in to his pocket for the room key to unlock the door. He sent her into the suite ahead of him, glancing down the hallway toward the target’s suite. The view reminded him of why they were there and that their affectionate charades were over in the morning. He swept his head at himself for his disappointment at that reality. He went inside, shutting and locking their door behind him. 

“You alright?” 

“Hm?” Jack hummed, turning away from the door to see her watching him with a subtle wrinkle of curiosity in her brow. His own brow pulled down, a bit defensively, as he shrugged off his jacket, telling her, “Yeah. ...Why?” 

Allison’s lips pursed into a pout, with a shrug. “Nothing. For a second there, you just looked a little... I don’t know.” 

With his jacket in one hand, he was already undoing the buttons of his shirtsleeves and near his collar on the way into the bedroom, oblivious to Allison’s quick aversion of her eyes when she caught herself watching him. “Just ready to go home,” he said, disappearing into the shadow of the bedroom until he clicked on the light in the en suite a few moments later. 

Allison hummed, looking after him, as she heard the bathroom door shut. She frowned, wondering what had dropped his expression at the door. She went back to the door and checked the peephole. When she didn’t see anyone outside, Allison undid the locks and opened the door just wide enough to peer down the hall toward the target’s suite. Seeing nothing unusual, she shut and locked the door again. She shook her head and went into the bedroom to change.

Stepping out of her heels, she bent down to pick up her shoes to pack away. Jack came out of the bathroom, carrying his clothes from dinner, having changed into a t-shirt and shorts. From the side of her eye, Allison watched him pack away his things. While Jack seemed to have started preparations for the morning, Allison picked up her clothes from the bed to change. 

Jack threw a look over his shoulder, hearing the bathroom door shut. He finished arranging things in his luggage and flipped the lid closed on his suitcase for the night. Rollins went out to the living room, picking up the remote for the television and clicking it on on his way to the suite’s minibar for an overpriced beer, needing something a little stronger than coffee to clear his head. He slouched down comfortably on the couch, scrolling through the channel guide to find something to watch, as he twisted open his beer for a drink. 

Rollins settled on the news, a little interested to see how the world had been behaving itself while he was away. Allison came into the room, walking across his view of the TV and giving the television and him a passing glance. She stopped at the fridge and Jack watched her debate her options before settling on a beer for herself and coming over to drop in beside him on the next couch cushion.

They’d gone down to dinner comparatively late and hadn’t rushed through the meal. It wasn’t late, per se, but he hadn’t expected her to join him. Not that there’d been a time they weren’t officially working, up until today, that she would have had an opportunity. She kept her eyes on the screen, somehow managing to open her beer and tap the neck of her bottle to his, resting in his hand on his leg, without a look before she took a drink. 

Jack snuffled a laugh at the maneuver, shaking his head at this kind of easiness he wouldn’t have expected to share with Allison. He lifted his beer for a drink, already thinking of missing it after tomorrow. They watched TV and drank in silence, for awhile. Eventually, the day’s news finished and Jack took up the remote, finding a movie on one of the English language channels to watch. Jack always liked “The Departed“ and Allison had no objection to make. They had only missed the first fifteen or so minutes.

While Rollins moved down into a deeper slump on the couch and put his feet up on the coffee table, Addams got up and brought back another drink for each of them, saying, “That per diem’s not gonna spend itself.” as she passed him a bottle and took her seat again. 

Jack and Allison both stilled, counting the rings of the hotel suite’s phone until they stopped at three. It was part of the exfil plan. The vacationing couple were booked for a few more days to overlap the target’s reservation, giving Allison as many days as the target was in town to complete her assignment. Finished early, the Hub would call the hotel, asking for the couple’s room, alluding to some kind of family emergency that would give them an excuse to check out early without suspicion. A second call from the communications center rang into Jack’s cell phone, as soon as the hotel phone stopped ringing. When he answered, they gave him a two word message before hanging up. “You're clear.”

“Be glad to be done with all this spy shit,” he grumbled under his breath, tucking his phone back into his pocket. 

Allison looked over, cocking up a brow to joke, “You didn’t have fun?” 

“Not really my thing,” he smirked. Rollins would always prefer the more aggressive approach to their work that being a soldier afforded him. “More of a hands on guy.” 

“Aw, come on,” she groused, putting a small shove into his shoulder. “I take you on an all expense paid vacation and all you can do is bitch? Is this because you didn’t get to kill anyone?”

“I didn’t say that,” he shook his head, grinning ahead of a drink. 

“You’re ruining our second honeymoon,” she complained. 

Jack quirked up a brow, his head lolling to the side on the cushion behind his head to give her a tired look, pointing out, “We're not even married, remember? You divorced me, before dinner.” 

“And yet you can’t stop holding my hand...” she airily teased. 

“There’s some joke in there about you not being able to do this op _without_ me holding your hand, dear,” he dryly told her, going back to the movie. 

Allison snorted, cracking a smile, as she bumped her elbow into his arm. “Thanks again for coming along.” 

Lifting his beer, he sarcastically grinned, “Anytime.” 

“You know, I think we work good together,” she noted, with an approving nod. 

“Not bad,” he casually agreed, knowing better this time than to say much more.

After one more beer he might be loose enough to tell her the truth. That he’d never enjoyed an assignment like this with anyone else before. Rare as they were for him, but still. He had gotten a taste of what it could be like to have a more intimate relationship with her. More than once, he’d had to remind himself of why he was even allowed to touch her and what they were there doing. They were only playing a part to sell a cover or, at least, she was. Jack fell in to the role with ease, but he hadn’t seen any signs from her or noticed any slips, like he’d caught of himself, that gave any indication that she had any other motive than for the job at hand. 

“Well,” she flashed a grin, despite his disinterested tone, “I had fun, anyway.” Allison stood up, taking her drink with her, as she rounded the end of the coffee table. “I’m turning in early,” she told him, sensing an awkward lull coming. “Long day tomorrow. ...G’night, Jack.” 

His eyes followed her out of the room, as he said, “Goodnight, Al.” When she was gone, he dragged a hand down over his face, as he sat up to put his beer on the table. “Jesus Christ, Jack,” he chided himself, under his breath. “Eyes front.” 

His hand fell to hang over his knee and the shine of the metal on his hand caught the corner of his vision. Jack raised and turned over his left hand, his thumb crossing his palm to turn the ring on his finger for a moment. Eyeing the silver band, he took a long drink of his beer, trying to remember what it used to feel like wearing a wedding ring. 

With the door shut between them, Allison let out a long and heavy exhale. She shook her head at herself, muttering, “ _You had fun_? What the f-” She stopped and took a long drink, on her way to sit on the side of the bed. “What, are you on a _date_?” She scoffed, shaking her head again and double checking the setting on the alarm, as she kept quietly complaining, “...For fuck’s sake, you’re a professional. _Act_ like it.” 

In a day, they’d be back in DC. By Friday, she would be back to work. The little comments and sass would have to be reigned in. She knew she had gotten a little too comfortable with this one-on-one time with the boss. He seemed to have a good sense of humor about it, though. If it were anyone else in any other circumstances, she’d almost swear he was actually flirting a couple of times.

Still, Allison winced, as she pulled her feet up to slip underneath the covers, remembering the off-color remark she had made the other night, implying that her CO had offered her some kind of pity fuck. Her palm went to her forehead, pressing there as she crushed her eyes closed to push the unfortunate memory away. He seemed to have taken it in stride and accepted her apology. At least, she hoped he had. She softly groaned at the thought of some kind of, at least informal, reprimand being possible when they got home. It wouldn’t be unreasonable to expect, she knew. 

She stretched over, snapping off the lights in the bedroom. She’d take any write up, if it came. She’d earned it. Maybe it would help her keep her head on straight, instead of being distracted by the handful of unexpected butterflies she’d felt in her belly from some of the touches from Rollins. _You have got to find a boyfriend again,_ she knew, if the boss was starting to look good to her. _Jesus._

Allison rolled on to her side and settled into her pillow with a sigh, tugging the sheets up to her shoulder. Even now, she got a flutter in her gut at catching a whiff of him on the pillow next to hers, the faint scent taking her back to that night she’d slept in his bed in Columbia.

“Aw, come on,” she whined, turning her wincing face down to hide in her pillow.


	19. Chapter 19

Feb 2012 

“How’d it go?” 

Jack gave the door a push to close it behind him, continuing into the office with a tall styrofoam cup of cafeteria coffee in hand. “You got the report,” he figured by now, easing into a seat in front of Rumlow’s desk. “You tell me.” 

Brock reached over to the corner of his desk, taking a folder from the tray there and dropping it in front of him to open the cover. Looking over the summary page, he nodded, “Good.” He lifted the page up to see the one below it for a moment, before letting the page fall, adding, “Surprisingly.” 

“Well, you’re in a mood today. Who pissed in your Wheaties?” Rollins smirked, ahead of a sip of coffee. “Target’s dead. Made a clean out with a little bit of intel for the geeks to go over. What more do you want?” 

“Nothing,” he snorted, leaning back in his chair and flipping the folder closed. “Just sayin’...” 

“Sayin’ what?” Jack innocently pressed, not that he didn’t know what his friend meant. 

“Don’t try that shit with me,” Brock smirked, pointing a finger at him. “You know exactly why I’m surprised it went well.” 

“Shouldn’t be,” Rollins matter of factly said. “I was a professional.” Mostly, he could say. “So was she. And do you wanna know why?” 

The Commander scoffed, with a smile. “Enlighten me.” 

“Because we’re both professionals,” he told him, cocking up a brow to say Rumlow should’ve known better. 

While Jack noisily took another sip, Rumlow sneered, rocking back in his seat and flipping him off. “Not gonna hear anything later about any grab ass, or other bullshit, that was left out of the report, am I?” 

Rollins gave a confident sweep of his head, assuring him, “No.” Jack took a moment to return the middle finger to Brock to emphasize his assurance, before adding, “I even slept on the couch.” 

Brock chuckled, shaking his head. “I’m proud of you, big guy.” 

“You didn’t think I could do it,” he decided. “You didn’t want me to pull it off.” Not that Rollins hadn’t had a few doubts himself.

“Not true. What do I get out of you crackin’, huh?” he dared, with a subtle lift of his chin. “You fuck up and I gotta go through the fuckin’ circus of replacing you?” Rumlow shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

“Some kind of smug satisfaction about being right, probably,” Rollins shrugged. 

Brock laughed, putting his hand on the folder to push it aside. “A little bit of ‘I told you so’,” he agreed.

“You know how pissed off you’d be, if you had to replace me?” Jack smirked. “Yeah, you could get someone to do the work,” he gave a thoughtful tip of his head, “but nobody else would put up with your shit.” 

“I am a charming sonuvabitch, aren’t I?” Brock proudly mused. 

“Oh, you’re something alright,” he dryly assured him, before another drink of coffee. 

“Anyway...” Brock sat up, with an exaggerated groan for the effort. “It would still behoove you to heed my advice about staying away from Addams.” 

“I still am,” he nodded.

Mar 2012

Jack thumbed out a few bills to contribute to the tip and pocketed the rest of his cash. He pulled his jacket off the back of his chair. As he shrugged on his coat, his eyes came up to wander across the room. He caught sight of Addams at the end of the bar, waiting patiently for the bartender to meet her and settle the group’s tab. Folding down the collar of his coat, he kept an eye on the man who moved over to smile at her. Rollins lazily dug around in his coat pocket for his keys, putting them in his left hand, while he took out his pack of cigarettes with his right to see how many he had left, and to kill some time.

Taking a look around, everyone else was gone. Rollins’ head tilted to the side, eyeing the man and Allison as they chatted. The bartender had finally come over to get the name for the bill and had stepped away to find their receipt. By the time he came back for her money, Jack was walking over, having made the decision to intervene. He hoped he wouldn’t embarrass her too much, when he stopped to stand close by her side. She turned her attention to him and he gave her a resigned look.

“Alright, sweetheart,” he sighed. “Don’t be cruel.”

“Excuse me?” she begged, a crease of confusion coming to her brow, lost for why he was so close and especially for why he spoke to her that way.

He put his hand down on the bar, putting his arm between her and the stranger, angling himself toward her and effectively cutting off the other man. “You made your point, okay, bluebird?” he told her. “Can we just go home now?”

Allison’s expression cleared and she understood what he was doing. Bluebird wasn’t a pet name. It was the word to use during their team’s last training scenarios if anyone spotted anything unsafe. Her eyes flitted past Rollins’ shoulder to the man behind him, who’d been in the middle of delivering a charming line before Jack interrupted.

“Fine,” she pretended to huff, taking the change back from the bartender. She looked back up to Jack, playing along as she poutingly warned him, “But don't do that again.”

Jack dutifully nodded, promising, “I won’t. I’m sorry.” He put his arm around Allison’s shoulders, turning her with him toward the door, and offering the disappointed looking man, “Keep tryin’, buddy.”

“What was that about?” Allison begged, stepping away from him and walking ahead, as Jack pulled the door open for them.

“That guy’s been hitting on everything with a pulse and a vagina, all night,” he told her. She barked out a laugh at his phrasing, and he let out an aggravated groan at himself for it. He rolled his eyes and apologized, “Sorry. Poor choice of words. But you had your back to the room. You wouldn’t have seen him to know.”

“Ahh,” she nodded her understanding, still grinning, as they rounded the corner of the building to the parking lot. “Pretty smooth rescue, though. Bluebird,” she laughed. “That was clever. Thanks.”

“Yeah, well, I owed you a decoy,” he shrugged, trying to sound indifferent. He gave a nod towards her car in the lot, saying, “I’ll wait ‘til you leave, in case he saw us split up.”

“Split up? Damn. Fastest break up in history,” she tutted. “Even faster than our divorces. Clearly, I’ve lost my touch.” 

Jack stopped, a vague grin tugging back the corner of his mouth, looking after her. Allison noticed his footfall stopped, turning to see him near his SUV, as he assured her, “I’m sure you haven’t lost anything.”

Allison bit her lip, shaking her head to note, “Two failed marriages and we can’t even get through having a drink together. When are we gonna figure it out?” She smiled, pointing back and forth between them. “You an’ me, we are just never gonna work out.”

Jack smirked, stuffing his hands in his coat pockets, considering with a shrug, “Maybe the fifth time’ll be the charm.”

Allison pressed her lips together, suppressing a laugh trying to get out. Tilting her head up to the sky, she jokingly groaned, “God, you better hope so. All this following me around like a puppy all the time... It’s embarrassing for you.”

He watched her turn away and walk toward her car. She dropped and shook her head, laughing to herself and waving a hand overhead for her goodbye, and he couldn’t help the smile it put on his face. Jack started moving again, unlocking his SUV with the remote and opening the door. It occurred to him he was still smiling, when he pulled the car door shut behind him. 

Jack sat there a minute. He looked out the windshield and down the lot, waiting to see Addams’ Tahoe back out of its space. In the quiet of his car, Jack put his elbow up on the door, rubbing his hand across his chin a few times, considering their exchange in the parking lot. He could see the humor in what they had both said, but could wince at the same time, seeing how quick they’d strayed into a dangerous area between acceptable and inappropriate jokes between coworkers again. But it didn’t explain why he was stuck thinking about her smile. Allison drove by and Jack followed her with his eyes.

Making the turn into traffic, it dawned on her how much of what she’d said could be construed as flirting and she shook her head, angry at herself. She chalked up her loose tongue to the couple of drinks she enjoyed with the guys, but still had a fleeting worry about once again leaving Rollins with a less than favorable impression of her, professionally speaking. She sighed, knowing that no matter if they were both smiling, her comments could still be considered too playful with the boss.Stuck at the light, waiting for the arrow to make her turn and seeing Rollins drive past in the next lane through, she couldn’t help thinking of the unexpected tug in her gut she felt when he’d called her “sweetheart”. 

“Jesus Christ, Al,” she quietly cursed herself, tipping her head into her hand by the window. “You need to _stop_.”

Mar 2012

“That’s twice now,” Jack corrected. 

“Twice?” 

Jack nodded, taking the plate his dad handed down the counter to him. “Yeah.”

“How the hell’d you manage to do that _twice_?” the Major smirked.

Rollins chuckled, with a bob of his head. “Right?” he readily agreed with the skepticism. “In Columbia, last year,” he started to explain, as he pulled out a chair on the long edge of the dining room table, setting his plate down to seat himself, as his father sat at the head of the table. Reaching for the salt for his steak, Jack said, “She was on a solo assignment. She tried to abort, but the brass overrode her and made her take a shot in a bad situation. She ended up getting made on her exfil. She got away, but she was grazed in a fight.

“My fire team was nearby, on another assignment,” he went on, taking up his knife and fork, “so they sent her our way for safe harbor. The police were all over, looking for anyone traveling alone who might have been the shooter. They stopped her in the lobby, before we could make contact with each other. So,” he shrugged, “I went up to her and pretended she was my wife, or whatever. Got her upstairs, stitched her up, and me and my guys got her out the next morning.”

His father snuffled a laugh, as he ate, giving a sweep of his head. “Sounds like a reliable MO you got there,” he decided. 

Jack grinned, conceding, “It’s worked so far.”

“This Allison,” he wondered, “she’s the one who was stationed out in California, with Echo Team, right?”

Jack nodded. “I’ve mentioned her before.” 

“The one you did that trip with a little while ago?” 

“That’s the one.”

“So,” the Major began, eyeing his son, “...what are you going to do about that?”

“About what?”

He gave a vague wave of his fork in his hand toward Jack. “About your little bluebird,” he said, and Jack chuckled ahead of a drink from his pilsner glass. “Is there something there?”

“There can’t be anything there,” Jack told him.

“Why not?” he thoughtfully frowned.

“For starters, I’m her CO,” he reminded him. “There’s three regs that prohibit it.”

His father nodded, spearing another bite of steak on his fork. “But she’s good looking, right? Got a sense of humor? Obviously, gotta be smart and good at her job to be one of SHIELD’s Horseman. You get along. A lot in common, I’m sure.”

Jack snorted, nodding along to answer each of his father’s thoughts on the matter. “Yeah,” he had to agree. “All of that. Smart, funny. She’s beautiful.”

“Well then...”

Rollins could only smirk and shake his head, taking a bite of baked potato to stall. He didn’t blame his dad for the encouragement. He was his only child. There was never a topic that was off the table for them. Bill Rollins had always been a sounding board for his son, always there to support him or tell him he when was being a dumbass. Jack sensed he should be expecting the latter today. It was quiet for a few minutes, while they ate.

“She the one you ran off her fiancé?” Bill spoke up to check.

Jack sat a little straighter, with an unhappy groan at the reminder. “Yeah,” he reluctantly admitted. “Same one.”

“So, that’s actually three times then,” he pointed out. 

“Yeah, I guess,” Jack conceded.

His father nodded to himself. The pause that followed was somehow more unnerving to Jack than having the Major say something. Jack knew it meant his father was choosing his next words. 

“Let me get this straight...”

“Here it comes,” Jack muttered, putting down his fork to reach for his beer and turn his eyes up to the ceiling. 

“Keep it up, smartass,” he dared. 

“Yes, Sir,” Jack smirked into his drink. 

“So, you work with this girl,” Bill started to lead him. “You’ve known her for awhile now.”

“Known _of_ her, is more accurate,” he disagreed. “She hasn’t been with Delta very long. Not even a year.”

“But she’s in the Division. You trained her, like you’ve trained damn near everyone else the last few years, yeah?” he figured. “You work with her now. You respect her, as a peer. She’s probably squared away, maybe lives the job, like you.” Jack nodded to it all. “You trust her and you obviously look out for her.”

“I’d do the same for any of my guys,” Jack insisted, trying to make less of the situation than his father was.

“What you did last night was chivalry,” Bill pointed out, “not brotherhood.”

“Oh, come on,” Jack groused, chewing another bite of food.

“Son,” he frowned, cocking up an incredulous brow, “you ran off this woman’s cheating fiancé to spare her some hurt feelings. Are you really going to try and tell me it was espirit de corp that made you do that?”

Jack didn’t have an answer, none that would throw his father off the subject or was ready at hand, anyway, and kept his attention on his meal. He didn’t have an argument to make, either. The more his dad went on, the harder it was to downplay how much more depth to his interest in Allison there was lately.

“She’s not just pretty. She’s beautiful, you said,” Bill noted. Jack rolled his eyes, but his dad continued, “The few stories you’ve told me about her, when you’re talking about your team, she sounds like a good soldier. You sure as hell don’t seem to mind her company. And, you mean to tell me, you’re not attracted to her, in the _least_?” 

“That’s beside the point,” Jack swept his head, still avoiding his father’s gaze.

“I think that’s the whole damn point,” Bill disagreed, with a sly smile. “When was the last time you-“

“ _Jesus_ , Dad,” Jack complained, his hand with his fork falling heavily to the table beside his plate. 

“That you came across a girl you had so much in common with?” he finished, a little firmly at the interruption. When Jack didn’t reply, his dad just nodded. “You meet these civilian women who don’t have much of a grasp about what you do. Nobody’s ever around very long, because of one reason or another, but it almost always comes down to something about the job. In and out of town for deployments, for training. Middle of the night call outs and missed holidays abroad. Same when you were in the Army.“He paused for a bite to eat. “You’ve never dated anyone from work. Maybe that’d be the difference and you’d settle down.”

Jack cocked up a brow. “I did settle down,” he flatly pointed out, “remember? You saw how well that worked out.” 

“Claire wasn’t the one for you,” Bill told him, his tone just as unamused to be speaking of his former daughter-in-law as his son was, cutting some more of his steak. 

“I can’t believe I’m hearing this from you,” Rollins swept his head. His father had raised him with a firm respect for the rules, and here he was, “You are aware you’re _actively_ telling me to disregard regulation, right?”

Bill shrugged, with a grin in the side of his mouth. “Jack, I just want to see you happy,” he told him, sincerely. “Your mother’d be saying the same thing.” Rollins scoffed, with a bob of his head, as he ate. “Look at the two of us,” Bill offered. “Your grandfather hated the idea of Lizzie and I dating. He swore up and down that a soldier was no good for her and she’d be heartbroken in a matter of weeks. But she did it anyway, in spite of his worry.”

“Because you hounded her,” Jack laughed. “She couldn’t say no.”

“And look what happened,” Bill noted. “32 years together and not one regret.”

“Grandpa forbidding Mom from going out with you is a far cry from me losing my job over a piece of ass,” Jack argued. 

“Don’t get smart,” he warned, pointing a finger from his elbow bent on the table. “And don't be disrespectful, calling her a piece of ass now, like I haven’t heard you talk about her before. That’s not what you think of her, is it?”

Jack let out a short sigh for being chided, and for the truth. “No, Sir.”

“If she turns out to be interested in you, and you pick regulations over a chance to be with someone who understands you and to be happy,” he considered, “your mother would be so disappointed in you. And, frankly, so would I. ...It’s a job, son, not your life. You find a girl that loves and understands you, it doesn’t matter where you work. Hell, you could always go back to the Rangers and be just as successful there as you are now. So, don’t tell me you’re worried about your job more than you are about your sanity.”

Rollins nodded once, in understanding. There’d been a couple of girls over the years he’d brought around for a holiday or family event or two. His mother was always hopeful one of them would stick around. She knew, if Jack was bringing someone home, he trusted them. His mother had said more than once that she hoped he’d settle down and start his own family. She was thrilled when Jack married Claire. She was just as disappointed, in the end, as Jack was.

His mother had said, she knew, with a job like his, he needed someone there for him everyday, who understood what he did and could take care of him. His mother had insisted that’s what made her and his father’s marriage last the way it did. Love, respect, and understanding. And he saw it growing up, the way she doted on her husband and ran their home while his dad was away for training and deployments.

They were a team. She was his anchor. When she died, his father had told him, no one had ever understood him like her, that he was lucky he hadn’t lost her until after Jack was grown, because he was never afraid of anything with her. If something had happened to her before, he said he’d have made a terrible father on his own. He didn’t know how he’d have gotten through his career or having a kid, without her encouragement and support. 

Jack had seen it for himself. Saw the respect and affection his parents had for each other, the give and pull of surviving base life while his dad served with the Rangers and when he was gone weeks or months on end. They compromised and worked out every problem, big or small, together. They were a storybook romance, in a way. So few of his friends growing up had parents that weren’t divorced or constantly at each other over one kind of bullshit or another. Growing up, Jack was hard pressed to recall even a slamming door from an argument between them. His parents, at different times talking to him, had said it was because they understood each other. His mother had called it a blessing that they did. His father called it a miracle. 

“Yes, Sir,” Jack relented. 

“I’m not telling you to throw your career away,” Bill told him. “I’m just saying, don’t discount her because of the circumstance. Just sit back and watch. If you see something there, it might be a chance worth taking.”

“Good talk, Dad,” Jack smirked. “Glad we had time to finish the drywall _and_ get my balls busted.”

“You're the one that brought her up,” he chuckled. “If you don’t want to hear how stupid you’re being, keep your damned mouth shut.”

Rollins nodded, with a grin. “Yes, Sir.”


	20. Chapter 20

Mar 2012

Allison stood staring, a deep wrinkle of thought in her brow and her arms wrapped around a paper bag stuffed full of groceries, while she waited for Steve to open the door and asked, “What’s her name again?” 

Rogers looked over his shoulder with a distracted hum. “Who?” 

“Your neighbor,” she clarified, giving a subtle tip of her head down the hall to the stairs the blonde had just gone down. 

“Oh. Uh, Kate,” he told her, turning the knob to open his door. 

“And she’s a nurse?” Allison checked, following him inside. 

“Yeah,” he nodded, stopping to shut and lock the door, while Allison kept on her way to the kitchen. “Over at GWU, I think she said. Pretty sure.”

“Huh,” she quietly mused, putting the grocery bag on the kitchen counter. 

A crooked grin pulled back the corner of his mouth, as he caught up to her. “What?” 

Allison smiled sweetly, shaking her head and shrugging. “Nothing.” 

“C’mon,” he insisted, putting down his own shopping bags to start unpacking. 

“Nothing,” she grinned, her brow raised high in innocence. “Just... I don’t know. It’s weird. I could swear I know her from somewhere. Her face, or something about her. I dunno.”

“Been hanging around the hospital,” he suggested, “trying to land a rich doctor, or something?” 

“I _wish_!” she laughed. “That’d be great, wouldn’t it?” 

“You could retire and live a life of leisure,” Steve teased. 

“As if,” she snorted. Their humor subsided and it was quiet for a minute as they put the groceries away. Allison broke the silence, mentioning, “She’s cute, though.” 

“Who?” 

“The _nurse_ ,” she pointedly said, thinking it was obvious who she’d meant. Allison quirked up a brow. “She single?” 

Rogers chuckled, closing a cupboard door. “You asking for me, or for yourself?” 

“Was thinking about you, handsome,” Allison winked, nudging her elbow into his gut as she moved around him to put the milk in the fridge. 

She grinned, seeing his subtle flustration over her shoulder, as he fumbled, “Me? Well, uh- I mean-“ 

“She always smiles,” Allison noted, shutting the refrigerator. 

“Well, ya know,” he shrugged, with a clearing of his throat so quick she almost missed it, “she’s a nice neighbor. Polite, quiet.” 

“She’s pretty,” she bluntly told him. “You should ask her out.” The suggestion did little to help the soft flush Allison saw in Steve’s cheeks, and it made her snicker. She decided to give him a break, suggesting, “Maybe later.” 

Rogers smirked, shaking his head. “Yeah, I’m gonna take dating advice from _you_?” 

“That’s fair,” she tipped her head in consideration. “A little harsh,” she said, “but fair.” 

“C’mon, Al,” he gently grinned, “I’m just kidding.” 

“I know,” she smiled.

His attention went down to pulling out a skillet for the stove, gingerly asking, “Still no one, huh?” 

Allison’s head dropped a little in defeat, shrugging to confess, “No. Not really.” She flashed a patient smile, nodding her surety at, “Not yet, anyway.”

It’d been 6 months since Kurt left town and she wasn’t exactly swimming very well in the dating pool. She told herself, and everyone else, she was too busy for a real relationship. The more accurate truth was she wasn’t really finding good candidates for her next romantic interest. She’d been on a few dates here and there, but hadn’t felt much of a connection with anyone new, and one night stands weren’t her thing. 

“So,” she grinned, giving his arm a nudge with her elbow, as she passed him to get to the sink, “if you got any hot tips...” 

“I’ll keep my eye out for anybody for you,” he supposed, “and you’ll keep nagging me about the nurse?”

“Exactly,” she nodded.

“There, uhh- There’s actually someone I’ve been thinking about asking,” Rogers shyly admitted. 

“Really?” Allison couldn’t help her widening smile. 

“Yeah,” he awkwardly chuckled, rubbing a hand across the back of his neck. “There’s this girl...” he fizzled out and shook his head. “Seen her a few times at the library.” He shrugged. “She seems nice.” 

“Let me just stop you there,” she said, holding up both her hands in front of him. “Right now, I want nothing more than for you to fall in love with a girl from a library. That sounds absolutely perfect for you.”

Steve laughed, and swept his head. “Now, hold on a minute. I was thinking more like just asking her out for a cup of coffee, not proposing marriage.” 

Allison gently patted a hand to his cheek. “My god, you’re adorable,” she cooed. “Please, don’t ever change.” 

He knocked her hand away, trying not to laugh when he warned, “I’m about to throw you out of here.” 

“No, you're not,” she assured him, with a cocky smirk. “Not on Taco Tuesday.” 

“Fine,” he stubbornly agreed, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’ll throw you out after dinner.”

“Deal,” Allison proudly grinned.

Mar 2012

“Not interested,” Allison forced herself to smile. “Thanks.” 

Turning away from the SIS agent, she rolled her eyes when he couldn’t see. Her ignoring him didn’t stop him from playfully begging from behind her, “What’s the matter? Not used to confident men?” 

“Hey, man,” Dennison diplomatically began. 

“Knock it off,” Mick frowned. “Alright, bro?” 

Sitting under the shade of a grove of trees, Allison had lost her appetite, after several minutes of the Sri Lankan agent overtly flirting and hitting on her. She’d spent most of the time trying to recall the word she’d use to describe his smile, in between her attempts at firm but polite refusals of his advances. It was on the tip of her tongue, but further from her grasp the longer he went on.

 _Skeezy_? _No_. _Smarmy_ , she thought, pleased with herself when the word finally came to her. She tapped Mickelson on the shoulder, passing him what was left of the granola bar she had been snacking on to finish, as she stood up. Maybe she was single, but she had to listen to _this_?

The agent had been leaning on the tree beside her, trying to impress her with stories about his work and dropping lines that she didn’t want to believe worked on any girl. It made her skin crawl a little, but she was working and her squad needed the escort from the SLA and the agent’s team had developed the intel they needed to find their fugitive. It wasn’t like she could just flip him off or kick him in the balls. Recognizing her professional tolerance was nearing its limits, she decided it was best to just go somewhere else. Allison dusted off the back of her pants and instantly regretted it, sighing to herself when she thought she heard some half-muttered and entirely unprofessional comment about her ass from the man behind her. 

“I’m takin’ a walk,” Allison decided. She nudged Rogers for some company on her way by and he fell in beside her.

“Not cool, dude,” Greer mumbled, shaking his head. 

The foreign intelligence operative looked around, still smirking. “What?” 

“Just keep it to yourself, alright?” Dennison said. “Nobody wants to hear that shit.” 

“Especially her,” Waterson seconded.

“She’s one of us,” Whitfield reminded him, “okay?”

“Oh, I see,” he nodded. He motioned a lazy circle around the group of American operators, saying, “There’s a woman in our department, too, who’s made her way aroun-“ 

“It’s not like that,” Mickelson scowled, and Dennison was there to step in between them when Eric jumped up to put a finger in the agent’s face. 

“Hey!” Will snapped, pushing Eric back a couple of feet. 

“Watch your fuckin’ mouth, man,” Strickland evenly warned, standing up as well. 

By now, Jack had had more than enough of the comments himself. He turned away from his small meeting, eyeing the scene behind him. Dennison was still holding Mickelson back. Strickland and Waterson looked cocked and ready to throw down, while the others on the fire team had all given their full attention to the situation and were waiting for anyone to give a cue so they could kick some ass. The SLA fire team waiting to escort Jack and his team were looking a little froggy, too.

“What the hell is going on back here?” Rollins demanded, stepping in and panning his gaze over his men. He spotted Allison and Rogers a short distance away. She looked to be complaining and waving an angry hand back their way, as Rogers sympathetically shook his head and turned her with his arm across her shoulders to keep her walking with him. 

“I was just complimenting your-“ 

“You’re lookin’ at her like she’s a piece of fuckin’ meat, man,” Dennison cut in, throwing a scathing look over his shoulder, still bracing a hand against Mickelson. 

Holding up his hands, the agent excused, “I didn’t know she belonged to all of you. If you don’t want to share, jus-“

Angry and offended cries came up from the team and Jack’s patience broke. He grabbed the agent by the front of his shirt with one hand and choked up on his throat with the other to shove the man back into the nearest tree. “That woman,” Jack growled through a tight jaw, his face mere inches from the man’s surprised expression and his grip on his neck loose enough that he could still breath, but firm enough to remind him he was only still doing so at Jack’s whim, “served over half her military career in-theater. She’s a 2nd lieutenant in this company and one of SHIELD’s Horsemen. She’s got more kills than you’ll _ever_ stack bodies. She’s an apex operator, not some _whore_.” Rollins gave an extra push on the man’s chest and throat. “Show some god damn respect,” he spat, before shoving the man to the side and watching him stumble for his balance.

“What’s the meaning of this?” the SLA commander asked, leveling his eyes at his counterpart. 

“We won’t be taking any of your people with us, after all,” Jack gruffly answered, still staring down the agent as he coughed and rubbed at his neck. The agent looked away first, and Rollins scoffed. “You’ll hear from us when we secure our target.” 

“Commander,” the officer began to apologetically protest, “I can assure you whatev-“ 

“All due respect,” Jack said, moving around the officer to grab his rifle leaned up against a nearby tree, “I don’t have the time or the patience to deal with this level of idiocy.” He wasn’t going to subject his team, and especially not Allison, to this kind of bullshit. “The best thing you can do to help now is to stay out of our way.” 

... 

“I was hoping to hit ‘im,” Haney complained. 

“We all were,” Whitfield seconded, tossing the utensil from his meal into the fire, followed by his entrée’s pouch. 

Allison shook her head, poking her spoon around in her MRE. There wasn’t much else she could do, listening to her teammates griping about the SIS agent’s behavior from that afternoon. She took another bite of ravioli, leaning her elbows into her knees and her legs crisscrossed beneath her. Rogers came back to sit down beside her again, palming his hand over top of her head and giving her hair a gentle rustle as he did. The move put a smile on her face, reluctant as it was, and her smile made Steve grin. 

“Wouldn’tve made a difference,” Allison told them. “Jackass like that wou-“ 

“Oh, it made a difference,” Mick assured her, walking around the fire to get to his ruck. “Shut him up fast.” 

“Real fast,” Greer seconded, chuckling. 

“Probably pissed his pants,” Haney smirked, tossing the wadded up packaging from his meal into the fire like he was shooting a basket. 

“A lil pee definitely came out,” Whitfield agreed, happily bumping his fist with Haney’s, as everyone laughed. 

Allison's brow knit down, as she looked around with a clueless grin. “What are you guys talking about?” 

“Ya missed it,” Emery told her. He gestured toward her and Rogers, explaining, “After you two left, dude kept going.” 

“Until the big man got his hands on ‘im,” Greer laughed, and the others all joined in. 

“Ay,” Haney waved a hand at Dennison for some help, “what’d he say? Show some god damn respect?”

Will nodded, with a smug grin, confirming, “Show some god damn respect.” 

“God damn respect!” Emery yelled, stirring up the others. “Agh!”

“Some god damn respect!” Mick laughingly echoed, grabbing Emery by the collar and giving him a jerk and a shake. 

Allison wasn’t exactly sure why she was smiling with her teammates, until Will tossed the grape jelly packet from his dinner to her, saying, “Rollins snatched him up like the bitch he was, gave him a little bit of your resumé, and told him you weren’t the town whore.” 

“Oh. Great,” Allison quipped, lifting the packet in her hand to Dennison and giving him a nod in thanks, before she concluded, “At least nothing embarrassing happened.” 

Allison’s gaze fell to the the ground in front of her, arranging the packet of jelly into her pile of left overs for snacks for everyone later and hoping no one could see her blush in the flickering firelight. Rogers gave her a soft nudge with his elbow, sending her a sympathetic grin when she looked up at him, as Mickelson came back around the fire to take his spot next to her again and said, “He got the message.” 

“Nobody treats our sister like that,” Will assured her. “We take care of our own.” 

“Poor defenseless, little thing that you are,” Steve teased. 

Everyone looked over, at the announcement from Cephas at the edge of the small encampment of, “Scouts comin’ in.” 

The group died down and a couple minutes later, Rollins and Waterson took shape out of the shadows. The pair dropped their gear beside the pile of rucks, each taking an MRE that Haney was passing out on their way to sit with the rest of the fire team, as Waterson wondered, “What’s everybody laughing about? Heard you from the creek.” 

“Just tellin’ Al and Cap about that piece of shit from SIS getting put in his place,” Emery smirked. 

Rollins took a knee and sat back on his heel, his attention on opening the packaging of his meal as he told them, “Everything’s right where it should be.” He wanted to put everyone’s mind back on business, having seen Allison shyly avert her gaze from him when he came back into camp. “Drone’s finally here to keep an eye. Weather’s moving in from the north to give us some cover. We’ll move in one hour. It’s a forty minute hike to this guy’s back door. Gear and weapons check in 30.” 

“Yes, Sir,” the fire team confirmed in unison.

Everyone went back to finishing their meals or policing up their trash to feed the fire. Allison chewed on the last bite of her dinner, as she tucked away the odds and ends she’d gathered from the other meals into the outer packaging her dinner had come in. She stood up, dropping her trash in the fire and stepping around the others to get to her backpack to tuck away their snacks. Passing Rollins, she slowed, giving him a humble grin for what the others said he’d done. He looked up, giving her a small nod in welcome, and went back to stirring his meal.

...

With the gear checked and fire extinguished, everyone made their final preparations to leave camp. Allison’s feeling of self-consciousness had finally passed. She knew her teammates were only looking out for her and didn’t mean to embarrass her, or anything else, by talking about what had transpired earlier in the day. Nevertheless, she was eager to get the mission over with and get home. Still, she couldn’t help the urge to say something to Rollins.

“Hey,” Allison said, as way of announcing herself while Jack’s attention was on the map in his hands.

“Yeah,” he distractedly said, folding up the map to stash behind the front of his plate carrier.

“You know,” she slowly began, watching Haney as he passed before continuing, “you don’t have to, like, keep defending my honor, or whatever.” In what was left of the moonlight, Jack took up his rifle to drop and inspect his magazine. “First, Kurt. Now, this douche.” Not that she wasn’t beginning to feel a little flattered. She flashed a meek, but appreciative, grin. “I can take care of myself.”

“I know,” he agreed, reseating his magazine with a firm strike of the heel of his hand and finally looking at her. “That’s not what that was about.” Allison started to shake her head in question, curious to know what it was then, but he went on before she could ask. “Hell, we were married twice,” he managed to deadpan, giving the charging handle a pull to chamber a round. “You think I’d let anyone talk to my ex-wife like that?“ he scoffed, looping the sling of his rifle behind his neck. 

Allison felt a flush creep inexplicably into her cheeks. “It’s just...,” she went on, not sure if she’d said her piece yet or not, “you keep being nice and me an’ the guys might think you’re not as big an asshole as we’ve all been led to believe.”

He chuckled, his head bowing for an accepting nod. “I’m not worried about it,” he told her. Rollins pointed around, noting, “Wasn’t just me. Any ‘a these guys would’ve punched that guy in the throat. I’m just the only one who could have gotten away with it. So...no big deal. Don’t worry about it, alright?

Allison nodded. “Yeah. Already forgot about it.” 

The reach was out there, but nothing came of it. Rollins stepped away to speak to Waterson, and Allison watched for a moment. She gently cleared her throat and gave a subtle nod to herself, acknowledging that she must be reading too much into things. Adjusting the straps of her ruck on her shoulders with a small hop, Allison started down the hill with the others. 


	21. Chapter 21

Mar 2012

“What’re you doing tonight?” Jack asked, after reading the message on his phone. He met Brock’s gaze, explaining, “Last minute, but the Major and a couple guys are looking to put together a game tonight. You in?”

“Hell yeah, I am,” he smirked. “Been awhile since I've seen the old man.”

Rollins looked over the rest of the riders in the elevator. “Poker night. Any other takers?” he wondered.

“Can’t,” Dennison shook his head. “Dinner with the fuckin’ in-laws.”

“No can do,” Haney said. “Have to take the girls to soccer in the morning.”

“Where at?” Rogers checked.

“Up in Bethesda,” Jack answered.

Steve looked to Allison, pointing out, “We didn’t exactly say what we were gonna do tonight. Wanna go?”

Allison shrugged. “Sure.”

Jack was back on his phone, replying to his dad to say the game had filled out, as he told them, “I’ll send the address.”

...

Allison dropped the napkins and beer bottle caps tucked in her palm into the garbage can in the kitchen. With a slight bend in her knees, she carefully set the quartet of glass bottles that she'd held with her bent arm down on the counter. Somewhere in the living room, or maybe by the front door, she could hear a few voices still talking. She dusted her hands over the sink and started rinsing out the empty beers, in case Jack’s dad recycled.

"You're the only one who cleans up," Jack noted, walking into the kitchen, before finishing his beer in one long swallow.

"Probably because I'm the only one repulsed by your guys' slovenly behavior," she smirked, putting aside the pair of rinsed bottles in her hands to grab another set. He was right, though. Sometimes the gentlemanly Captain stuck around or took the initiative, but even he could sometimes overlook the mess after a game and get distracted by a good conversation.

"It's because you're a girl," Rollins dryly simplified, adding his empty bottle to the dirty collection by the sink.

Allison shook her head, with an accepting grin. "You all are lucky to have me,” she insisted. “Shudder to think of the disaster you dirtbags would live in otherwise. I'm surprised how halfway decent your places are, every time you guys host poker night. I know the wives take care of some places, but how the rest of you've survived this long on your own..." She shook her head, with a disappointed click of her tongue. “It’s a miracle.”

"Smartass," Jack grumbled, taking the necks of some of the cleaned out bottles between his fingers to walk out to the recycling bin in the backyard. “And don’t make judgmental generalizations. You’ve never seen my place.”

Allison snorted. A minute later she was finished rinsing bottles and shutting off the faucet. She flung her hands into the sink a couple times to shed some of the water and circled her fingers around the last of the beer bottles on the counter to take outside. She turned in to Jack, literally running into his chest, not realizing he'd come back inside so soon. In a flash, Rollins' hands came up, clasping over the sides of hers to keep any of the glass bottles from falling, as Allison hissed out a startled profanity, with a panicked look at the items in her hands. Laughing in relief, she shook her head.

"Shit. That was clo-“ She stopped herself, letting out an awkward cough of a laugh instead of finishing her thought.

She was suddenly aware of exactly how close she was to Jack; the bottles pressed between them the only thing keeping them apart, the scent of his god damn cologne or aftershave and his hands still wrapped over hers. And Allison suspected he was, too. He muttered some kind of apology, taking the rest of the bottles off her hands and going back outside. There was a burst of laughter from the other room and the noise actually gave her a small start.

She swore under her breath, rubbing her hand at the back of her neck and looking between the sink and the back door. Allison wasn’t quite sure why the flutter in her belly was still hanging on. The disaster was averted. Nothing had fallen or broken. Her hand dropped to her side, seeing Jack coming back in to turn in the doorway and pull the door shut behind him again.

He wiped his shoes on the doormat and ran a hand back over his hair to knock off the remnants of the light rain outside. Looking up from checking to see if he was tracking anything in, Jack’s gaze caught Allison’s, before she turned away to grab a dish towel and wipe the counter by the sink dry. Jack watched for a moment, his mouth falling open to speak, feeling the urge to say something but lacking any idea of what it would be. He shook his head, walking out of the kitchen before she finished her busy work and saw he was gone.

In the living room, Jack smiled along to the laughter from Rumlow and Rogers speaking with his dad. “All set then, Jack?” Bill wondered, turning to see him coming over. He looked past his son, asking, “What happened to Allison?”

“Cleaning up,” he answered, sending a jerk of his thumb behind him toward the kitchen.

Bill frowned, complaining, “You shouldn’t have let her do that. I was-“

“Can't stop her,” Brock said, with a shrug of acceptance of the inevitable.

“Force of nature,” Steve seconded. “She does it wherever she goes.”

They all turned to see, as Allison came into the living room. She stopped mid-stride, seeing everyone looking at her and frowning, “What?”

“At it again, huh?” Rogers teased.

Allison figured she knew what he meant and shot back, “Well, none of you Neanderthals were gonna do it.” 

They all chuckled, nodding their agreement. “No argument there,” Brock smirked.

“You didn’t have to do that,” the Major told her.

But Allison shrugged, saying, “It’s no trouble. Only takes a couple minutes.”

“Well, thank you, anyway,” Bill smiled. “You’re welcome back, _any_ time. Maybe some of your manners will rub off on these chuckleheads.”

“Not likely,” Steve jokingly muttered.

“Go on,” Bill said, waving a hand at them. “I’ve had enough of you smartasses for one night.”

The men all exchanged handshakes, thanking Bill for having them and saying their goodbyes. Bill patted a hand over Allison’s, assuring her it was just as nice for him and his friends to meet her and that she was always welcome. She smiled graciously, picking up her coat off the end of the couch. Jack’s father told everyone to be careful getting home and made a point to touch Jack’s arm, telling him to take care. Allison grinned, pulling on her jacket, as she shuffled out the door behind the others and saw Jack and Bill share a quick hug.

“I’ll call you tomorrow about getting over to Aunt Kathy’s,” Rollins promised his father, heading out the door.

Allison didn’t hear Bill’s reply over the sound of the rain in the trees overhead and her footsteps in the puddles on the walkway, but she glanced over her shoulder to see him shutting the door and Jack coming down the path behind her. She stopped for a moment, in spite of the soft rain, to let Jack catch up.

“Hey,” she smiled, as they walked along together, “thanks for having us over. Bill’s a great guy.”

“There was space at the table to fill, so...” he shrugged, stuffing his hands in his coat pockets, still thinking about that awkward moment together in the kitchen and wondering if she would say anything about it.

“Well, still...” she trailed off. 

Jack frowned at himself, for the downturned tone he heard in her voice. To make amends, he told her, “It improved the view for the night, though.” And he immediately regretted the implications of the comment, regardless of how true it was. He was just trying to make her feel better. He didn’t mean to be that honest.

Allison felt a soft heat in her cheeks. She nodded, her lips pressed together in a thin grin with a soft hum. She wasn’t quite sure what to say and was grateful for Rogers calling out to her from across the street as a distraction. 

“Be careful getting home, Al.”

She waved, giving Steve a grin, as he dipped into the driver’s seat of his car across the street. She gave a quick wave goodbye to Rumlow, as he pulled away from the curb ahead of them. Allison pulled her keys from her coat pocket, taking a peek down the street before she crossed to her own car, despite knowing the weather and late hour meant no one else in the quiet neighborhood would actually be out. But it gave her something to do, instead of walking awkwardly next to Jack.

Rollins hit the remote unlock on his own SUV, watching her from the side of his eye. He grinned to himself, when she had her back to him, thinking of what his dad had said to him on the porch. “I like her. She‘s something else.” Jack pulled the door shut and started the engine. Across the way, Allison was in her Tahoe pulling her seatbelt on. Rollins looked down, digging his phone out of his pocket at hearing a message chime in. Jack snorted and shook his head at the text from his father.

[Your little bluebird is worth the career.]

“Yeah yeah,” he muttered, dropping his phone in the cup holder and buckling his seatbelt.

Mar 2012 

"Alakozai."

"Gesundheit," Allison smirked.

She stopped her workout, wiping the sweat off her brow with her forearm and setting her free hand up against the heavy bag to stop its sway, while Jack crossed the gym floor. The room was emptying out for the night. Rollins nodded in reply to a couple of Alpha operators saying goodbye on their way home. He should have left a half hour ago himself, if the tip on the whereabouts of a tier one target hadn't come across the wire.

"Very funny, smartass," he nodded. "I need an in."

Allison laughed. It wasn't the reply he was expecting. He crossed his arms, while she bent down for her water bottle and took a long drink. Looking back up at him, she blinked.

"Oh, my god. You're serious?" 

Jack gave a single nod, his expression removing any doubt. "You worked a man named Isaad Alakozai for CS to identify and take down a nuclear materials smuggler in Paktika Province. We have information that Taj Quasam has been hiding in Shakin, skipping back and forth over the Pakistan border. I know you ran Alakozai four years ago when you did HumInt for the Army and brought him to SHIELD with you. I need a pass to run the city for Quasam, and I need you to get it for me."

"Let me just point out the actual important part of what you just said," Allison told him, starting to undo the wraps on her hands. "Four years ago, Jack. _Four_."

He nodded his understanding of her sarcastic emphasis and the splayed fingers she held up to make her point. "You guys break up on bad terms?" he quipped.

She stopped unwrapping the long, black strip of cotton on her right hand just long enough to roll her eyes at him. "You'd do better to tap someone who's currently in CS to get a word in with Alakozai," she figured.

"I have," Rollins said, turning to watch her as she stepped around him to ball up her wraps and put them in her bag. She grabbed her towel off the bench, wiping off her face, as he continued, "There's no one currently working him and he's shut down the last three approaches from their agents. Since they've lost communication with him, they think he's turned back."

"Well," she shrugged, "if he's not playing ball anymore, that’s probably a reasonable assumption.”

"I need better than that," Jack pressed, taking a step forward. "For the shit Quasam's into lately, if this goes south, it's gonna be a big fuckin' mess. I need Alakozai's blessings and his help to root this fucker out, fast."

"Try Costello," Allison offered, after a thoughtful moment. "He took over my cases in the region when I joined STRIKE. If anyone still knows him, it's Coz."

"I did," Rollins told her. "He told me to find you."

"Huh." Allison cocked her head, considering the comment. "That's flattering," she smiled.

"I can't just go wandering through a warlord's backyard, if he's hiding a dirty bomb maker," he reminded her.

"I know," she agreed, with a sigh.

Allison sat down heavily on the bench, dropping her forehead to the towel in her hand. Jack moved to straddle the bench beside her, watching her; waiting for something he could use to get into the province without setting off an international incident. She ran the towel back over her sweat-soaked hair and shook her head, turning her eyes up to the ceiling, stumped.

"You gotta give me something, Princess," Jack urged, and she turned her head to give him a halfhearted glare for the name. "What's your take on the guy?"

She let out a breath and dropped her hands into her lap. "He's very shrewd. Pretty cool and calculating. He's not an easy man to make friends with," she conceded. "If he stopped talking, he'll be hard to get going again. The trick will be figuring out why he stopped in the first place. Did Costello have anything for you?"

Jack shook his head. "Not much. Alakozai missed two meetings to transition handlers after you left. They made the last approach in May of 2011. Same result, so they cut him loose."

“May of ‘11...” she mused. Allison was quiet for a moment, before nodding to herself, realizing "His wife, Hala, died. She was killed in a Coalition airstrike." She turned her gaze to Jack. "17 December 2010."

Rollins swept his head, confused, knowing she was working for him at the time and not CS. "How do you know that?"

"He sent me a letter," Allison smirked, with a quiet snort.

"He what?" Jack laughed.

But she nodded to say it was true. "Hala was my in," she admitted. "I made the approach with my partner at Alakozai's home, but he didn't bite, until we came back with a medic. Hala was sick. He kicked us out, but I spotted her on the way to the door. She looked pretty bad. Turns out she developed sepsis after delivering their second son."

"You used Hala to earn his trust," Rollins concluded, as Addams nodded her confirmation of the ploy. "And since it was a Coalition bomb..."

"Probably," she figured, pressing her lips together. 

_“_ Fuck.” Jack wiped a hand over his mouth, at a loss, before he recalled, "But he reached out to you about Hala. He wrote you a letter. What did it say?"

"He told me what happened," she shrugged. "That he was thankful I’d been so stubborn and arrogant to try and come back to them with the medic, after he sent us away, and given his sons more time with their mother. He said, with me moving on, he‘d miss our talks about Rumi when I visited or called for something." Allison grinned, fondly. "He said Hala died on the 17th, like Rumi did. It kinda stuck with me, for that.” Allison shrugged again, with a solemn frown. "So, I guess without Hala, he didn't think he had any connection to us anymore. He'd pretty much gotten everything he could out of the deal, by then."

"And if I go anyway?" Jack wondered.

"If you got made?" she considered. Allison swept her head, warning, "He's not one to disrespect. If you got caught, it would not go well."

"Alright, so come with me," Rollins decided.

Allison coughed out a laugh. " _What_?"

Jack stood up, stepping back over the bench and pocketing his hands. "I need an in," he shrugged at what he thought was obvious. "You used to be his BFF and you’re the last person he had voluntary contact with. So, get me an introduction."

She blinked and shook her head. "You're nuts. You know that?"

"Intel says we've got four days before Quasam is scheduled to deliver his next bomb, and we don’t know where it’s going or to who," Rollins informed her. "I don't have time to wait for someone to try and open a channel with Alakozai and fail again. I need your help."

Allison dabbed the towel at her throat and stood up, with a curious squint in her eye. "Wait. What?"

"I said, in four days-"

"No," she waved a hand for him to stop. "The last part. What do you need?"

Jack’s head lolled tiredly to the side and he groaned out a sigh. "You heard me," he grumbled.

"I like the sound of that," she smiled, stepping up to him and turning her ear to be sure she heard him clearly. "Say it again."

Jack scowled down at her, for a long moment. Begrudgingly, he repeated, "I need your help." Allison beamed in front of him and he rolled his eyes up to the ceiling, muttering, "For fuck's sake."

She chuckled, reaching up to pat his arm. "Never seen you beg. It’s kinda fun.”

Rollins grabbed her wrist, before she could withdraw. "I'm not begging," he corrected, with an condescending smile. "Now, can you get me a meeting with Alakozai, or not?"

With a grin, she nodded, assuring him, "Yeah. I'll get you in." Allison added, with a mischievous smirk, "It's just nice to know you need me."

"I need you," he slowly nodded, speaking deliberately and looking her in the eye, "to take a fuckin' shower, you little gym rat. You stink." Jack flashed a wicked smile and she snickered, a nervous reaction to the idea she had that they were actually having some kind of moment. Rollins let go of her wrist and turned to go, holding up a finger above his shoulder for her to see on his way out and telling her, "Briefing room 4 in _one_ hour, Princess."

Behind him, she called him an ass, and Rollins smirked proudly.

...

“SigInt believes they intercepted a call from Quasam and his unidentified buyer,” Dennison was winding up. “Cell activity in the last 14 hours places him in the city. Optimistically, we have about 81 hours to get in, locate Quasam, and cancel delivery of his next bomb. If we’re lucky, we can get a bonus and grab the buyer, as well.”

“Alright, so how do we make this work?” Rumlow asked, rocking back in his chair and propping up his chin in his hand.

“We have Quasam’s timetable. All we’ve got to do is get a line of communication open again to Alakozai,” Rollins answered.

“I got within two blocks of home, before I got called back for this,” Rumlow pointed out, waving a hand over the intelligence reports and satellite images that they’d been going over spread out on the conference room table. “So far, I’m not hearing anything that tickles my balls and says we can pull this off.” 

“That’s why she’s here,” Dennison noted, with a tip of his head toward Addams.

“You can get these guys into Shakin to speak to Alakozai and get his support?” Brock pressed.

Allison nodded. “I can try,” she said. “He’s been out of contact with SHIELD for over a year. I can’t guarantee anything.”

Rumlow cocked up a brow. “For what we’re about to try and do, I need a little more confidence than that, Lieutenant.”

“Addams is the last person Alakozai had voluntary contact with,” Jack spoke up, in her defense. “We believe there’s some sentimentality there we can play on to get his cooperation.”

“How would you even get in touch with him?” the Commander challenged.

“I go to the Hub and make a few calls,” Allison shrugged. “I can reach out through any assets SHIELD has in the region. I’ll have them make a few drops on our behalf in places Alakozai‘s people used to watch. See if he answers any of them.”

“That’s it?” Rumlow wondered, turning his hand over away from his chin.

“It’s all we’ve got,” Jack conceded. “We need Alakozai’s help to get into the city and find Quasam. We’ll take a small eight man QRF from 2nd Squad and have Fire Team Alpha on standby to bag Quasam. Initial approach and recon will be a six man fire team, including the three of us,” he explained, motioning between himself, Addams, and Dennison, “Strickland, Solomon, and Whitfield.”

“If we go in there with a full squad,” Dennison chimed in, “we run the risk of being noticed and tipping off Quasam. This way, we’ve got three Horsemen and four people on team who speak the language.”

Rumlow was quiet for a moment, his mouth resting behind his hand. “Make your calls,” he finally ordered. “I want you airborne no more than two hours from now.” He leaned forward and stood up from his chair at the head of the table. “If Alakozai answers, I want you already on the way. We don’t have any time to waste.”

“Yes, Sir,” Jack nodded, as he and the others stood from the table. He turned to Allison, saying, “Get to it.”


	22. Chapter 22

Mar 2012

“Al,” Dennison called, looking up from the workstation near the cockpit. He passed her a note, saying, “We got a reply.”

Jack watched Allison turn the paper around to read, asking, “What’s it say?”

“If you have been secluded from water and bread,” she read aloud, “like bread, become the food of the souls, and so become.”

“What the fuck does that mean?” he asked. 

“It means he’ll see me,” she grinned, proudly.

“How do you know?” he pressed, not eager to leave anything to chance. They didn’t have room for any mistakes, especially misinterpreting a message. “It's a piece of poetry, or something. No directions where to meet, or anything else.”

“You’re right,” she nodded. “It is poetry.”

“How’s that an invitation?” Dennison questioned, apparently sharing Rollins’ skepticism.

“If we still understand each other,” she allowed, “it means we’ll meet the same we always did. There was a cafe I’d meet his driver at. We’d go outside the city, to be sure no one was following my partner and I, before we were snuck into his home.”

“If she says so, works for me,” Will shrugged to Jack, before going back to his computer.

Rollins got up from his jumpseat, moving across the cabin to sit next to Allison and drop a tan backpack at her feet. He took the note from her hand to read for himself, figuring, “This is Rumi?”

Allison nodded, with a fond grin. She pointed to the writing, saying, “It’s the last line of a poem. The last time we met face to face and I told him I was leaving my assignment with CS and wouldn’t be working with him again, the last thing he said to me was the beginning of this poem. That’s what I wrote for the drops, so he’d know it was me.” She snorted. “Thank god he remembered.”

Jack handed back the paper and Allison folded it into a small square to tuck in her bag. “What was it?” he asked.

“What was what?”

“What was the last thing he said to you?” he tried again.

“From these depths depart towards heaven,” she recited, “may your soul be happy, journey joyfully.”

Rollins nodded. He checked his watch, telling her, “Let’s hope he still wants your soul to be happy.”

...

“Drifter,” Jack called into his mic for Allison’s attention, “let’s get a check on the SatPhone.”

“Copy that,” Allison replied, reaching through the open car door to grab the phone off the dashboard. She dialed the number for Jack’s satellite phone, taking a causal look around to see what she could see and took off her comms device, to avoid feedback and for some privacy, before putting the phone to her ear. She smiled, when he answered, and she quipped, “Yeah, I’d like to order a pizza, for delivery...”

“Sorry,” Rollins grinned. “We’re all out.”

“Damn,” she sighed. “I’m gettin’ kinda hungry out here.”

He chuckled, reminding her, “Hopefully, it won’t be too much longer.”

“I know,” Allison grumbled, lazily turning her head over her shoulder to see down the road. In the distance, she noticed a small cloud of dust rising and thought she saw the faint glimmer of sunlight reflecting. “Sooner than we think, maybe,” she commented, just as the TOC announced over the channel that there were two vehicles inbound, about two minutes away.

“Put your game face on,” Rollins told her, grabbing the field glasses from the ground beside his proned out position to get a view of the vehicles coming.

“Do me a favor?” Allison asked, eyes set ahead, watching the approaching convoy take shape from within the dusty cloud.

“Sure,” Jack casually agreed, adjusting the focus of his lenses.

“Promise?” she pressed, feeling a subtle rise in her pulse and a twist in her gut she hadn’t felt in a long time.

“Name it,” he told her, his amusement tugging back the corner of his mouth, as he eyed the cars down the road.

“If this goes south,” she worried, “you put me down, okay?”

 _Anything but that_. Rollins put his attention back on Allison. She was still staring ahead of her, watching the road. She looked as calm as ever; determined and confident, as always. Her gaze turned up to the ridge he was on. He knew he was too far away for her to see him, but he swore her eyes found his for a moment.

Allison wasn’t an idiot. She knew who she was about to be dealing with and how risky what they were trying to do was. It could all be a trap. Alakozai getting his hands on a STRIKE operative would be a hell of a feather in his cap. He could have sold her out to Al Qaeda, or anyone else. Alakozai wasn’t on the payroll anymore and he knew nothing of what Allison wanted. SHIELD would pay him again for his cooperation, but there was no guarantee he’d be interested in helping or the money, if he had better offers. There was nothing to say he wouldn’t just kill her and take the money in the backpack Rollins gave her. 

“Jack,” she insisted, “you put a fuckin’ bullet in my head. Promise.”

Rollins let out a heavy exhale, putting his binoculars aside to wipe a hand down his face. _Jesus_ _Christ_. The nerve she had to have for her to even make such a request was admirable but hit him like a punch in the gut. She was smart to ask, though. She was out in the open and alone. The closest direct support was a camera guided missile from a UAV circling so high it couldn’t be seen by the naked eye. Jack and the others were all a half mile away. If she was taken, a bullet to the head was a better end than the horrors that could be inflicted on her here.

“Yeah,” he nodded to himself. Jack put aside the binoculars and grabbed his rifle, promising her, “I got you, Princess.”

“Okay,” she agreed and hung up the satellite phone. She put her comms device back on and breathed.

As the cars approached, Rollins ran down a mental list of contingencies and had each position or controller sound off as he made his checks. The observers standing by up the road, the pilot of the surveillance drone and the one piloting the one carrying ordinance, the controller standing by to send in additional air support or MedEvac, the second and third sniper positions covering Allison and her driver. Confident that they were ready, Jack tucked the stock of his rifle in to his shoulder and against his cheek, slowing the cadence of his breathing while Haney, lying prone next to him, kept him appraised of windage and distances as the vehicles approached Addams.

The TOC advised the targets were arriving at her position and Allison took a deep breath to steel herself. There was a tense minute, where Allison stood waiting, but no one got out of the other two cars parked beside each other. She suspected, whichever car he was in, Alakozai was trying to see if it was really her. Finally, doors on the car to Allison’s left opened up and two younger men, carrying automatic weapons, got out. 

“ _Two variables approaching Drifter, from Vehicle 1. Targets are armed_ ,” the controller said, over the channel.

“ _Wanderer has a lock on Vehicle 2_ ,” the armed drone pilot advised. “ _Standing_ _by_.”

The man closest to her called out to her in Pashto, telling her to put up her hands and turn away from him. Allison did as she was told, purposefully moving slow. The men approached her, as her driver pulled a pistol from under his seat to train on her and watched from behind the wheel. One man grabbed the tan backpack at her feet, dragging it away and putting it on the hood of her car to inspect the contents.

“ _Hustler 2 to Station. I’ve got a line on the bag man_ ,” Strickland noted.

“ _Hustler 3. I’ll take the other variable_ ,” Solomon added.

Jack’s index finger shifted down to float beside his trigger. He watched through his scope, unblinking, even as a drop of sweat from his brow ran into his eye, as the first man began to pat Allison down for weapons. From behind her, the man grabbed her elbow to turn her around. He nodded at her once, telling her to put her hands down. Allison still moved carefully, despite the two men stepping back from her to stand in front of her car. The driver of the third car got out and openEd the back passenger door. Allison immediately recognized Alakozai. She was surprised to see him in person. 

The older man straightened his sunglasses and tilted his head back far, making a small turn to search the sky. He looked back down and toward Allison. He stepped around his driver, as another armed man from the front seat of his car got out to follow near his side.

“ _Third armed variable in play_ ,” the controller updated, and Allison glanced to check on her driver, knowing no one but her could see his gun and she couldn’t give a warning that there were actually four armed targets to cover.

Jack let out a quiet growl of complaint, as he hooked his finger on the trigger and shifted his sights to track the third gunman from the cars and opened his microphone. “Hustler 1. I have Variable 3,” he advised.

“ _Station copies- All Variables covered_.”

Alakozai stopped a few steps in front of Addams. Rollins could see him standing on the far side of his target in his scope. He saw him speak to Allison, but her open microphone didn’t pick up what Alakozai said over the wind passing on the hot desert air. Jack settled on having to judge their success on hearing just Allison’s half of the conversation. Not that he was fluent enough in the language. What he learned with the Army hadn’t been used since and wasn’t reliable for conversations anymore, but he’d be able to tell by her inflection and any signals she gave how it was going, while she and the asset spoke Pashto.

“It's good to see you again, Agent Addams,” Alakozai began. Allison grinned warmly, but was tuned in to his wary tone.

“You look well,” she said.

“And you,” he nodded. 

“My condolences to you and your sons,” she offered. “I’m very sorry for your loss.”

Alakozai bowed his head, accepting her sympathy, before telling her, “This war,” he gestured around them with his palms turned up, “it takes something from us all, everyday.” His man stepped up to show him her open backpack. “And here you come, with a bag of money. Looking to take something else?”

“I’ve come to ask for your help again,” she told him.

“I admit, I wasn’t sure if it’d be you,” he smiled, briefly, before his expression fell neutral again. “And now that I see it is, I’m even more suspicious of why you’ve come back to bother a quiet man.”

“You travel with a lot of artillary,” she noted, with a nod to the gun in the hands of the man beside him, “for a man who’s supposed to be living quietly.”

There was a pause between them, before Alakozai cracked his first genuine smile, laughing, “I can keep no secrets from you.”

Allison felt a small level of relief and smiled with him. She watched, confused for a moment, as he turned behind him to wave a looping hand at his car. He gestured his hand to her, inviting Allison to walk along with him. Ahead of them, a boy emerged from the car and stood peeking out from behind his door.

“ _Juvenile male has exited the vehicle_ ,” the controller alerted all positions. 

“Come,” Alakozai said to Allison. “My son didn’t believe it would be you either, when I told him who I was going to see.”

Allison was surprised when the boy came forward to hug her. She folded her arms around his shoulders, as Alakozai boasted, “The first poem my son learned to recite was ‘Let Go Of Your Worries’.”

Rollins relaxed, taking his reticle off the boy and resting it back on his original target. He wished he understood more of what he could hear, but he trusted what he read in Allison’s posture and tone of voice.

“I’m very proud,” she beamed, looking down on the boy and putting an affectionate hand to his cheek. “Look how big you’ve gotten, Taimur. You’ll be as tall as your father, soon. If I’d known you’d be here, I’d have brought us some jelebi.”

The boy grinned and laughed, as Allison rustled his hair and his father sent him back to the car. When his son was inside again, Alakozai turned to Allison, saying, “Now, to business.”

Allison gave a nod and told him, “I’m looking for a man. Taj Quasam. We know he’s in Shakin, and my people think you know where to find him.”

“Ahh,” he nodded thoughtfully. “The reason for your money.”

“For _your_ money,” she corrected, “if you help me.”

“If I help you all,” he wisely said, pointing a finger up to the sky and then around to reference their surroundings. “Where is your partner now? How many have you brought today? You wouldn’t come looking for Quasam on your own.”

“Then you know where to find him,” she coaxed.

Alakozai gave a solemn nod. “And you’ll kill him, if I tell you?” he supposed.

“If I have to,” she freely admitted. “In less than three days, he’ll deliver a dirty bomb to a buyer we haven’t identified. We don’t know where that bomb will be used. It could be set off here.” Alakozai snorted quietly, and Allison stressed, “Quasam is doing his work in your backyard; where your sons live.”

“There are others,” he mentioned, “who could have larger bags of money.”

“With your help, one way or the other,” she promised, “I’ll take him away from here, and you have one less worry for your family and your people.”

He gave her a shrewd smile, wagging a finger at her. “Preying on the love of my sons to get your way.”

“Reminding you what a bag of money _can’t_ replace,” she disagreed, inclining her head toward the boy in the car beside them. 

Alakozai didn’t respond right away. The silence began to unnerve her, and she figured it wasn’t making anyone else watching or listening in feel any better. Alakozai looked at the man by Allison’s car, standing by the money. He lifted his chin and the man scooped up the bag to take to the other car.

Allison watched it happen, still wearing as good a poker face as ever, despite not knowing if this was just a robbery or Alakozai would make a deal. Alakozai flipped his hand to the other men, who responded by getting back into their respective vehicles, leaving Addams and the warlord alone. He nodded to himself, for a moment, before stepping up to speak to her ear, telling her exactly where to find the bomb maker. 

“Thank you,” Allison told him, with an appreciative nod.

“Next time,” he said, in English, moving away to open his car door, “don’t wait so long to ask for something, Agent Addams. Your pronunciation could use the practice.”

Allison gave him a tight nod, knowing her accent and pronunciation were just fine. “So could yours,” she told him, smiling at his teasing. “And it’s Lieutenant now.”

Mar 2012

Two days later, Allison was laid out on the deck of the Quinjet. Head was pillowed by her rucksack and booted feet crossed at the ankles and kicked up to lay up on a jumpseat, she waited for her team to board their jets and make the trip home. They’d stopped at the US airbase to refuel before the journey back, after dropping off Quasam, his buyer, and three other men taken in the raid for the CIA to question before the men were transferred to a SHIELD blacksite for further interrogating. The noise from the flight line came in through the downed ramp of the plane on the warm breeze and with her iPod earbuds tucked in, Addams might have missed Rollins coming in, if it wasn't for the subtle metallic ring his boots made crossing the diamond plate flooring of the Quinjet past her head.

Allison cracked open one eye, seeing him walk by to stow his bag on the rack above the jumpseats on the far bulkhead. She pulled an earbud out, telling him, “Evenin’, Boss.”

Rollins looked down over his shoulder from securing his gear. “Thought you were asleep,” he said, giving his ruck a pull to make sure it wouldn’t come down in flight.

From her spot on the floor, she shrugged, with a quick frown. “We’ll be lifting off here soon,” she knew. “No point in getting comfortable yet.”

“You look pretty comfortable to me,” he snorted, turning around and stepping over to sink down to the deck and take a seat next to her. Jack drew up his heels and hung his arms out over his raised knees, leaning back against the seat edge behind him. His head dropped and he let out a tired exhale, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck and ready to go home. After a long moment, he picked up his head again to look over at Allison, giving the side of her kicked up leg a soft smack with the back of his hand for her attention, saying, “You came through. Good job.”

“Thanks,” she humbly grinned, glancing over at him from the screen of her iPod.

“Really,” he insisted. “We wouldn’t have been able to pull this off without you.” 

“Oh, I know,” she playfully assured him. “You boys are completely helpless without me.”

Jack snorted, bobbing his head that he should have seen that coming. “Not completely, smartass,” he groaned. “But you definitely made it easier on us, this time.”

“Just glad it worked out,” Allison said, pulling out her other earbud and putting aside her iPod, hoping to save the rest of its battery for the ride home. “If that bomb got out, or he set it off? This could have been a bad one.”

“Yeah,” he quietly agreed, tiliting his head to meet the hand he pushed back over his short cropped hair. Rollins tipped to lean his head into his hand, propped up by his arm on the side of the jumpseat she was using as a footstool. “We got lucky.” 

“Surprised Alakozai took the payment and didn’t ask for an inflation adjustment,” she quipped.

Rollins chuckled. “Turned out to be a nice guy,” he admitted, “for a warlord.”

Allison snickered. “He wasn’t always so sweet,” she assured him. “Took a lot of work to soften him up.”

“Were you worried?” Jack asked, his eyes lazily following a fuel truck driving nearby.

“Honestly?” she checked, and he looked back to nod at her. “Yeah, a little.”

“Didn’t know you ever got scared, Princess,” he smirked.

“I didn’t say _scared_ ,” she smartly disagreed, uncrossing her feet to bump his arm with the heel of her boot. Jack let his arm fall to lay along the seat and Allison put her foot back, as she muttered, “We can’t all be Jack Rollins.” He snuffled a laugh, with a bob of his head to accept the jab. “You’re never scared, are you, Jack?” she playfully grinned.

“Wouldn’t be human otherwise,” he conceded, catching sight of Dennison and Strickland coming toward the jet.

“What have you ever been scared of?” Allison wondered, giving him a discerning look, doubtful he’d come up with anything.

Dennison called out, as he made eye contact with Rollins. Jack gave a nod to say he’d heard him, planting a hand on the jumpseat to push himself up to stand. He watched his teammates coming, considering his answer to Allison for a moment.

“That I’d have to pull that trigger two days ago,” he finally told her.

“That’s where Jack Rollins loses his nerve?” she fiendishly grinned. “Afraid to shoot a girl?” 

“No,” he made a short sweep of his head, before shifting his gaze down to her still lying on the deck. “Of having to lose you.”

Allison stared up at him, her smile slowly dissolving, a little shocked, as he turned away to walk down the ramp and meet the others on the tarmac. She pulled her feet back and sat up, hugging her arms around her knees. She couldn’t stop staring after him, watching him speaking to Dennison and looking at something on the tablet Will held between the two of them.

There were words missing. Or so she thought. There had to be. What he meant to say was, having to lose her _like_ _that_. Or, maybe, he meant how he’d hate to lose anyone of his team that way. After all, she knew she had asked a lot of him. What he absolutely couldn't have said was that he was afraid of losing her. Could he? After the time they spent together in Mumbai, the little comments here and there, and now this, she was beginning to wonder if it never was her imagination and there was something nobody was saying. 

“You alright, Al?” Brian came into the cabin, giving Allison a pat on her head as he passed behind her.

“Yeah,” she flashed a distracted grin, glancing over her shoulder to see him going to the rack to put up his rifle.

Allison looked back to Rollins. She didn’t look away when he noticed her watching. Instead, they locked eyes, staring at each other for a long moment, before he gave his attention back to Dennison and the tablet.

“Al?”

“Hm?” she hummed, twisting around to see Brian holding out a bottle of water to her and pulling a second out of his ruck.

“I said, I got you a water,” he told her, giving his outstretched hand a subtle rise for her attention. “Everyone else is still a few minutes behind, getting chow. I know you said you weren’t hungry, but Mick’s grabbing some pizzas for the ride home.”

Allison took the bottle, smiling, “Thanks.”

“You sure you’re alright?” Strickland worried, moving to lower a jumpseat next to her. 

“Yeah,” she nodded. “Just a little tired. This heat, huh?” Allison feebly grinnec. “Ready to go home.”


	23. Chapter 23

Mar 2012

“You look like hell,” Rumlow noted, as Rollins came in. “You alright?”

“A few long days,” Jack dismissed his concern, crossing the office to take a seat in front of the Commander’s desk, “that’s all.”

“Worth it, though,” Brock told him. “Congratulations are in order. Homeland and NSA were more than happy to cross Quasam off their lists.”

“I’m sure they were,” he snorted. “Especially since we did all the hard work.”

“Yeah,” Brock agreed, with a sly grin. “But you made it look easy. Nothing chaps asses like making the impossible look easy.”

Jack chuckled. “Wish I could take credit,” he admitted, “but this one is pretty much Al’s.”

“Even better,” he nodded, smiling now. “A girl did what they couldn’t.” They shared a laugh, before Brock mentioned, “I was looking a little closer at this with Fury. Wondering if there wasn’t room in there for a medal recommendation, or something.”

Rollins gave it a moment’s consideration and then swept his head. “No, not really. I think a commendation could be in order, but I don’t think there’s anything to do beyond that. Doesn’t quite hit all the marks.”

“That’s what I thought,” Rumlow nodded, “but Nick was asking and I told him I’d double check with you, to see if there’s anything I might have overlooked. Funny, ain’t it, that to get the big atta boys there’s gotta be blood? Don’t get me wrong,” he put up a hand to excuse himself, “I’m impressed all this got done without a shot being fired.”

“Yeah,” Jack quietly agreed.

Rumlow gave him a discerning once over. “You sure you’re alright?” he pressed, with a wrinkle of curiosity in his brow.

Rollins nodded. “Just agreeing about no shots.”

“There something I’m missing?” Brock wondered, still studying Jack. “Did you leave something out of the report?”

Technically he had, but nothing that needed to be in there anyway. Still, after a moment of debate, Jack admitted, “There was a conversation Addams and I had.” He swept his head. “Just a few words, really.” He leaned onto his elbow on the arm of the chair and rubbed his hand across his chin. “Something she said still kinda bothers me, I guess.”

“What was it?” he asked, resting back into his chair.

Three days later and he still knew exactly what she’d asked of him; the words and how she said them. How each one sounded. How they felt to hear. How heavy they were, like stones on his chest.

“She was a little nervous, waiting on contact,” Jack explained. “She asked me, if something went wrong, to put her down, so she couldn’t be taken.”

Rumlow inhaled, deeply. “That’s a pretty fucked up request.”

“She knew where we were and what we were dealing with,” Rollins told him. He shook his head. “We went small. It kept us under the radar, yeah, but it was a hell of a gambit. In hindsight, there’s no way we could have responded quickly enough to an ambush, the way we were set up. She was basically alone out there, unarmed and without Kevlar. It was as good a plan B as anything else, considering what could’ve happened if we got sold out.”

“She made the right call,” he said, and Jack vaguely nodded his agreement. “So, what’s the problem?”

Jack took a deep breath, getting the nerve to say, “I don’t know if I could’ve done it.”

Brock gave a confident nod, telling him, “You would have.”

“I told her I would. I told myself I would.” He dropped and swept his head. “I don’t know.”

“You would have,” he assured him. “Any of us would have. We couldn't live with letting what could've happened happen, to her or anyone else.” 

“Maybe,” Jack said, still not convinced.

“You going soft on me, big guy?” Rumlow questioned, cocking up a brow when Jack lifted his gaze to flip him off. Brock snorted. “Nah,” he decided, with a smirk, “not you. You just didn’t want to break up with your girlfriend.”

“Give it a rest,” Jack grumbled, slumping back tiredly in his seat. “You know I’ve never done anything.”

“And you’re not going to, either,” Brock added.

Resting his head back on the top of his chair, Jack closed his eyes, agreeing, “Exactly.”

Although that was something else he’d become unsure of lately. Now that she was assigned to DC, on his team and in front of him everyday, he’d grown accustomed to having her around. He was very aware of the days she wasn’t there, whether it was for an assignment for the Horsemen or just doing joint training somewhere, and he still remembered the occasional flirting, wondering if there would ever be anything behind it for her. It occurred to him, maybe that’s where the hesitation came from. If something had gone wrong and his hand had been forced, he’d never have the answer to that question.

“Go on,” the Commander facetiously griped. “Get outta here, before you fall asleep. I got a meeting in ten minutes. I need that chair open.”

Rollins lazily sat up, with a snort. “Yes, Sir.”

On his way to his office for his keys and wallet, Jack considered what Brock had told him; that he would have been able to pull the trigger and kill Allison. He shook his head at himself, still doubting if he could do it. Jack wiped a hand down his face and shook his head. Snapping the lights off to his office, he decided he needed to take a step back and keep his friendship with Addams strictly professional. He couldn’t let doubt or hesitation interfere with his work. Too many people depended on him.

...

“Hey, Al!” 

Allison stopped, smiling at hearing her name and turning to see Rogers coming up behind her. “Hey.” 

“Welcome back. You wanna grab something to eat?” he offered, returning her grin. “The Capitals are playing tonight. I thought maybe we could watch somewhere.” 

“Aw,” she smiled. “That’s sounds great.” He flashed her an accomplished grin and she was sorry to say, “But I’ve got plans.” 

“Oh,” he frowned. 

“Sorry,” she winced, disappointed herself by the timing of the invitation. “I have a date.”

Rogers’ expression brightened, wondering, “Who's the lucky guy?” 

Allison shrugged. “Some guy I met the other day, before this Quasam thing.” 

Before she’d gotten on the plane to Afghanistan with Rollins and the others, Allison already had plans. Ryan was good looking and seemed nice enough, but she had a moment of debate about actually seeing him, still a little thrown by what she thought she’d heard from Jack last night when they were alone on the jet. But Allison knew nothing could come of anything with Rollins, even if that’s what he was implying. She knew it was wiser to stick to dating outside of the Triskelion, like she always had, and confirmed plans with Ryan when she landed to prove to herself she had the conviction to follow the rules.

“First date?” he smirked. 

“Yeah,” she snorted. 

“That’s okay,” Steve grinned. “How ‘bout tomorrow then?” 

“I’m all yours,” she announced, holding her arms out at her side. 

“Good,” he smiled. The Captain tipped his head for them to continue to the elevators and leave for the night. “Think about where you wanna go, or what you want to do. Anything. My treat.” 

She held up her hands, fiendishly rubbing them together. “Famous last words.” 

“I fought the Red Skull and survived 70 years under the Arctic ice,” he reminded her. Steve winked, adding, “I think I can handle you.” 

Apr 2012

“Okay. Let’s see if Al’s time in CS pays off tonight,” Strickland announced, picking up his beer as he slid out of the booth from his seat beside Allison. “Target acquired.” 

“Good luck,” Allison smiled after him. 

From across the room, Emery called out for Rogers. The trio left at the table all looked, seeing Emery wave Steve over to say he’d gotten control of a recently freed up billiards table. The Captain grabbed his drink and excused himself for a game, leaving Addams and Rollins alone in the large corner booth. 

“What’s that line about CS about?” Jack wondered, tipping the bottle in his hand to point at Strickland in the doorway to the front room of Barny’s. 

Allison hummed, a setup to her answer while she finished swallowing her drink. When she could speak, she smiled, maybe a little too proudly, to say, “I gave him some tips awhile back about reading and influencing people.” 

“You taught him how to pick up women?” he quirked up a judgmental brow. “Isn’t that betraying your sisters?” 

“No,” she laughed. “Just a couple tips to refine his technique. Brian’s fun, smart, a good looking guy. He does fine on his own. It’s just when he doesn’t want to take time on the approach...” She swept her hand out for him to draw his own conclusion.

“Still sounds suspiciously like you’re a traitor,” he smirked. 

“Not at all,” she disagreed. “I’d tell any girl how to do the same. Have in fact. It’s how a friend of mine met her husband.” 

“So that means it okay?” he snorted. 

“I like to think so,” she winked. “And don’t tell me you’ve never used any tricks you know to pick up unsuspecting women.” 

“Fair enough,” Jack conceded, ahead of his next drink. 

“Yeah,” she smugly nodded. “See? We’re all a little guilty. Anyone can run a honeypot.”

“Not quite the same,” he noted. 

Allison shrugged. “Basically. The gist is there,” she maintained, ahead of a sip of her whiskey. “Just abbreviated, if you will.”

“Can I ask you a question?” he checked, studying her to judge the willingness of her forthcoming answer against her reply.

“Sure,” Allison shrugged, her gaze distractedly on her hand setting her glass back down on the paper coaster on the table, lining it up as close to center as she could in one try.

“What’s it like,” he wondered, “having to do that?” 

Her brow knit down, clarifying, “What? A honeypot?” 

Jack nodded, as he drank from his beer and Allison sank into the back of the booth, considering her answer. She blew the air out of her puffed cheeks, before deciding, “Depends, I guess. They’re all different. The approach, timetable, who the target is, environment. But the only thing that matters is the objective, right?” 

“I suppose,” he gave a noncommittal tip of his head, before resting his chin down to his shoulder to see her where she’d slouched down comfortably in the booth beside him. 

“Mostly, it’s a soul sucking compromise of your morals,” she laughed. “I mean, pretending to not know or care who the guy is or that my skin isn’t crawling at just the thought of his hands on me. But, personal feelings aside, he's got something I need and have to get, or get him to do something, right?” Jack gave a nod. “You grit your teeth and bear it,” she shrugged. “Find out what makes him tick, make sure you can check some of those boxes for him, and pray you keep him distracted enough to not get made. 

“For that,” she allowed, pointing up a finger, “it’s probably one of the more exciting things I’ve ever done.” Allison held up her hand to mark an imaginary level in front of her. “You’re kind of always at that place just shy of fight or flight. But it can be a little fun, too,” she grinned. “The wigs, colored contacts, maybe an accent or different language; getting to be someone else.” 

“I guess, I’m really wondering,” he figured, eyeing his hand on his beer on the table, “why do you do it? Why do any of you? Whole thing’s a little...dated, isn’t it?” 

Allison thoughtfully frowned, saying, “Yeah, I guess. But who else is going to do it?” She shrugged again. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s the challenge that that’s the last or only card there is to play to get a job done. In a way, it’s kind of the ultimate power play for a girl, ya know?” A wicked smile came to her and she quipped, “Besides, bad guy or not, sometimes he’s hot.” 

“I thought you just said it makes your skin crawl,” he noted, with a smirk. 

“It does,” she agreed. “But a handsome face makes it a little easier to suffer.” She paused to take another drink, while he laughed. “And you can’t tell me you wouldn’t think the same if someone had you doing this to a beautiful woman.” 

“Probably,” Jack said, with an accepting grin. 

“Mostly you just hope the guy’s lonely or loose enough to fall for it fast,” she said, getting back on track and hoping her comments about a man’s looks didn’t make her sound too shallow or trashy. “There’s always a clock you’re working against.” Jack nodded his understanding, and she mentioned, “Luckily, men are all pretty easy.”

“Easy?” he cocked up a brow, as if he were almost insulted. She gave a sure nod and he dared, “You think you can get that shit to work on anyone?” 

“Anyone,” she promised. ‘I’m undefeated.” She pointed a lazy finger around the room while she held his attention with hers. “Fifty bucks. Anyone in here.”

“That witchcraft wouldn’t work on me,” he confidently told her, ahead of a swig of beer. “Already know your tricks.”

Sitting up and turning in her seat on the booth bench to angle herself to Jack, taking the challenge if only to keep her record intact. “It starts with attention,” she explained, putting on a charming grin and setting a bright eyed gaze on him. “The right smile at the right time, a lil’ small talk, a whole lot ‘a ego stroking. Pretend you're hearing everything about him for the first time and it’s the most interesting shit you’ve ever been told. Ask questions, keep him talking.” Sizing him up, she told him, “For you, I’d ask you about your career. You just scream military. The short hair, the physique and posture.”

“That’s just lazy,” he frowned. “It’s like you’re not even trying.”

She moved over a few inches. “Get a little closer,” she went on, ignoring his intentional slight. “His pulse goes up, confusing closeness for attraction. Maybe touch your hair, play with a necklace. Subtle things to draw his attention to whatever you know he’s in to or where you want it to go.” 

Jack realized he’d fallen for it, letting his eyes follow her hand when she put her elbow on the table and her fingertips touched her earring and brushed up the side of her neck before she rested her head in her hand to give him a doe eyed look. To defend himself, he cooly told her, “You have no idea what I’m in to. Besides, someone like me will just follow a hand to make sure there’s no threat coming.”

“Maybe,” she airily allowed. “But let him get comfortable,” she confidently continued. “Lower his guard. Maybe he suggests going someplace quiet, maybe I do. Give ‘im some kind of touch to make him think that he’s getting somewhere. Maybe on his arm, while you laugh at something funny he said. Maybe his knee or thigh, depending on how well it’s going or how fast you need to work. Sometimes, little accidents happen; my leg or hand brushes his. A shy apology and he’ll be hooked.” 

Rollins eyes ticked down and he arched up a brow to give her an exhausted expression at the feel of her knee moving past his under the table as she withdrew back to her first spot in the booth. He snuffled a laugh, as she wound down, saying, “They let the contact happen, or make it with you, as quickly as you let it happen. They want to think they’re winning. One look or one touch, at the right moment, and he’ll think he’s the man of your dreams.” Allison grinned mischievously, concluding, “Play it with the right mix of confidence and vulnerability, and they’ll fall for it, every damn time. Even you.”

“Ever worry he might change your mind about him?” Jack asked, feeling his pulse evening out again, after she’d moved away.

“Who me? No,” she swept her head. “Never did it long enough to worry. Met a few charmers, though. But it’s all a game. Just part of a strategy.” 

“It doesn’t mean anything,” he summarized, ahead of a drink of beer, thinking back on their time together in Mumbai, more than a little disappointed for the apparent confirmation that there was nothing going on there for her.

“Never get emotionally involved,” Allison chuckled. “That’s the catch. People can tell when there’s nothing behind a look or a touch, a kiss, right? You have to be able to maintain a level of control and detachment. It can get a little precarious.”

“Have you ever been compromised?” he asked, somehow thinking he shouldn’t. After all, she was a professional. But Jack couldn’t help wondering. 

Allison shook her head. “There’s a build up and design to these kinds of things. A script you follow, with a little improvisations here and there. You're convincing someone a story is true, that you’re real and care for them. There’s a purpose in every moment. You may never lie so much in your life,” she laughed. “Saying that,“ her head bobbed once, allowing, “yeah, I wouldn’t doubt lines have been blurred by someone before. Just not by me.” 

Rollins couldn’t help his curiosity. “How many times have you done it?” 

“Twice,” she said, after a moment to be sure of her answer. “Both mercifully brief and not too involved. Played a cover with someone more than a few times, like you did for me. But covers are different. Less to sell, so to speak. It’s just a facade. I’m not _actually_ flirting with my partner,” she thought she should clarify, considering their time working together in Mumbai.

He nodded along, his disappointment hitting an all new level. “Must be a relief to have someone you know with you, then,” Jack figured. “There aren’t as many lies to tell, at least.” 

“Sorta,” she smiled, before adding, “Different lies, is more like it. It’s easier because they’re in on it, sure, but it can still be awkward.” 

He smiled, as she chuckled at her own assessment. With her talking so freely and a couple beers out of the way, Jack felt bold enough to ask, “So, what was it like with me?” 

Allison’s smile dropped and brow rose, more than a little surprised. “Mumbai?” she questioned to stall.

Jack shrugged, as if he were only casually interested. “That, or that time you decoyed for me on the op with CS.” 

“Oh, definitely _a_ _wkward_ ,” she quickly said. “I mean, you’re the boss,” she shrugged, chuckling quietly to tamp down the nervous twist in her belly, recalling the unexpected moments from Mumbai between them that had given her the same feeling then and a dozen other things since. “I mean, what else would it be? But whatever. It’s for the job, right?” 

“For the job,” he agreed, with a subtle nod and a lift of the beer in his hand. He took a drink and so did she. Rollins put his empty bottle down on the table, figuring, “Guess you get used to it, huh?”

“I wish,” she muttered. “There’s always the what-if. That’s the worst part. What if I get caught? No matter how prepared you think you are..."

“Makes sense,” he understood, with a nod. “A situation like that...”

She gave a subtle shake of her head. “Not with you, though,” she told him, not understanding why she felt it was okay to. “Either of those times with you, or when you helped me out with that guy you said was trouble here a while back.” She swept her head, staring at what was left of her drink with a thoughtful purse on her lips. “Don’t think twice, with you.”

Rollins eased back in his seat, measuring the weight of her answer. Across the room, a roar of arrogant pride turned both their heads. A smirk ticked into the corner of Jack’s mouth, seeing Emery gloat about whatever he’d just done in front of Rogers. Rollins looked away first, his smirk turning to a grin at Allison’s amused eye roll at the spectacle across the room. His smile slowly faded, as Allison finished her drink and it was quiet for a moment. 

“Ay, you want another?” he offered, contemplating replacing his own drink and to fill the break in the conversation. 

Her brow knit down and head shook, still inwardly chiding herself for her last admission and not having a good explanation for why she said it. But she knew she shouldn’t say much more. “No,” she decided. “Think I’m headed out. It’s getting late and I’ve got some things to do in the morning before I meet up with Cap.” 

He watched Allison pull a couple bills out of her pocket for her part of the table’s tab, before she slid out of the booth. On her feet, she waved overhead to get Rogers and Emery’s attention to say she was leaving. They waved back and Steve called out for her to be careful getting home. She looked back down to Jack, flashing him a quick smile and subtle nod for her goodbye. 

“Hey, what’s that mean?” Jack spoke up, curiosity piqued by what she’d said only a couple of minutes ago and needing to find some kind of closure to that conversation.

Allison stopped mid-stride and took a step back to the table. With a clueless shrug, she asked, “What does what mean?”

“That you don’t think twice, when you’re with me,” he said, seeing her curious expression turn hesitant. “What’s that mean?”

She didn’t have a fast reply and Allison took in and let out a contemplative breath. “Nothing.” she shook her head, more than a little unsure of what to say. “Something. Whatever you want it to, I guess,” she tittered.

He nodded, not entirely surprised by the dodging answer but let down nonetheless. He tried one more time, asking, “Mean anything to you?”

Her mouth fell open, ready to speak, but the words weren’t there yet. She shook her head, with a small shrug, before telling him, “It’s something, I guess.” A cough of an awkward laugh fell out of her and her gaze drifted down to the pair of fingertips she tapped down twice on the edge of the tabletop to expel some of the anxious energy that rose up at remembering the rules. She looked back up, shaking off the soft heat she felt in her cheeks with a shy grin, saying, “Guess it means...we work well together. Wouldn’t be so bad having your help again sometime.” Because that’s all she knew it could mean.

Jack’s head bobbed once, with a contemplative frown, accepting the vague answer as all he was going to get, without straying too close to violating decorum and maybe a regulation. “Anytime,” was all he could think of to back out of the conversation. 

Allison flashed a thin grin. “Well,” she nodded, “goodnight, Jack.” 

“Yeah,” he gave a subtle raise of his chin. “See ya.” 


	24. Chapter 24

Apr 2012

"In short," Rollins started to wind down the debrief, "excellent work today." He put aside his handwritten list of bullet points to hit for the end of the day meeting and moved his tablet in front of him again at the podium. "One final note," he announced, looking back up to the room of his squad assembled at Camp Henry for training. "The jump for insertion, to begin tomorrow morning's exercise, has been cancelled due to high winds."

There was a subtle groan of disappointment from the room, as Rollins continued, "Wind gusts of up to 40mph are expected through 1200 tomorrow. Barring any unfavorable updates from Henry's weather station, the jump is postponed until 1600. Regardless, I want PCIs complete by 1300. Team leaders will meet here at 1330 for PLO. Team leaders will brief the revised exercise parameters to you at 1430hrs on the parade ground and complete PEC. Make note, as this training is a required part of your airborne recerts this week, this will delay our return home for however long it takes to get the jump in." There was another din rising in the room, but Jack pressed on, speaking louder to be heard above the noises of complaint. " _Assuming_ we can make the jump in the afternoon, it should just be the one extra day."

“In the meantime..." Jack went on, tapping his tablet screen to sync to the monitor on the wall behind him. The ruckus rose to a new level of dissatisfaction at the words "Safety Briefing" appearing on the monitor. "Lock it up!" he barked, and the room slowly came back to order. He took a beat, looking over the room to be sure everyone was paying attention again. "In the meantime," he firmly started over, "...you ungrateful little shits...are being given a 6 hour pass."

The long and miserable looking faces in his audience lit up, with several of his men eagerly sitting up to whoop and holler at the news. Rollins waved a hand down to calm them again, noting, "Standard 4-point briefing is as follows..." Jack tapped the next button on his tablet and he read a list of the rules out loud as they each appeared on the screen. "First and foremost, do not add to the population. ...Secondly, and at the strong urging of SHIELD's attorneys, don't _subtract_ from the population, either. ...Number 3...stay out of the hospital, the newspaper, and jail. And lastly,...if you do end up in jail...establish dominance quickly."

Amidst their laughter, the squad happily agreed to the rules with a booming “hooah”, as Rollins advised them, "If there's no further complaints or concerns, muster at oh-700 in front of the barracks, in PT gear. Unit then, dismissed."

...

"Anything else, Commander?"

Looking over the meal set down in front of him, Jack swept his head, politely grinning to say, "No. Thank you." 

The waitress left him with a nod and smile. Jack rearranged some of the things on his table, trying to avoid any unnecessary messes on the work he'd brought with him. He didn't feel bad about taking up a whole booth for himself. The officers club at Camp Henry wasn't very crowded and, with the squad's jump delayed until the next afternoon, he needed the space to plan the necessary changes to the exercise. 

The storm that was blowing through was enough to keep most people inside the barracks, anyway. Unfortunately for Rollins, his room assignment had him close enough to the rec room for him to hear all the highs and lows of the NBA game on the big screen. He brought his paperwork and tablet along in the hopes of finding a more tolerable amount of noise in the O club, where the brass was at least marginally more behaved than their subordinates. Even if they weren't that night, he could still grab something to eat before finding refuge in an empty room after-hours in the admin building.

The club always had a decent prime rib on the menu. While he ate, he took occasional looks at the outline he'd been writing, making adjustments where he saw a need or had changed his mind. He stole some glances at one of the televisions near the bar, checking up on the game with a sip of beer here and there. That's when he noticed Addams on one of the stools at the end of the bar near the door. He watched for a moment, seeing her grin at the bartender taking a menu from her and leaving her a bottle of something. Jack was surprised she hadn't taken the chance to get off base with the others for a break from the already grueling week. No one joined her and she seemed content by herself. Rollins went back to his meal. 

When the waitress came back to clear his plate, Jack ordered another beer. He looked past his waitress to see Allison still at the bar. She shook her head at whatever she was reading on her phone, before she took the device in both hands to start typing. Rollins pulled his pile of paperwork back in front of him again and began organizing things to get back to work. A couple minutes later, his next drink was delivered and Jack caught sight of Allison's look of aggravation, before she put down her phone on the bar and pushed her plate away from her. 

With a profanity muttered past her lips, Allison took a frustrated look around the room, wanting any distraction from the messages on her phone. Her gaze caught Rollins seeming to notice her notice him when he was passing off an empty glass to his waitress. Allison flashed a small grin hello, replying to the subtle nod he gave her for being seen. He said something to his server before she left and put his attention down on whatever he was working on. Addams’ phone buzzed on the bar top again and she turned it back over to read the preview on her screen. She frowned at her phone, thinking for a long minute before deciding not to reply, just as a whiskey double was set down in front of her. 

"I didn't order this," she told the barkeep. 

The man pointed to Jack's waitress down the bar and then over to his booth, saying, "From the Commander, ma'am."

"Ah ha," Allison nodded once, pulling the drink a little closer when the bartender cleared her plate and picked up the cash she’d set down for her bill and a tip. She smiled her thanks to the man and slid off her stool, taking her drink and phone with her across the room. She stopped at the end of Rollins' table and cleared her throat for his attention.

Rollins kept his focus on the coordinates he was writing down, but acknowledged her arrival with a pleasant enough, "Good evening, Lieutenant." When he was done with his notation, he looked up. "What can I do for you?" 

She made a small gesture with the tumbler in her hand. "Thought I should say thanks."

He motioned to the empty side of the booth, offering, "Wanna sit down?" 

"Sure.” She had nothing else to do. Sinking into the booth back, she put her glass on the table and jutted her chin his way, noting, "You look like you're having fun."

"About as much as you do," he observed, taking the interruption as an opportunity to stop for a drink of the fresh draft beer that had been sitting aside. Jack nodded to her whiskey. "You looked like you needed that.”

Allison hummed, with a self-deprecating smirk, touching her fingertips to the side of the glass. "Yeah, probably," she figured.

He picked up his tablet, moving his screen to see the next area of map he needed, checking, "Something wrong at home?" 

Her brow creased down, a little curious to know, "Why would you say that?"

"Well," he began, pinching to zoom out on his map, "I'm pretty confident that, with you being on a pass for the night, work isn't the problem." He lifted his eyes from his screen to see her. "And since you and I are sitting here being civil, I'll venture to say those dirty looks weren't for your poor, old ex-husband here," he waved a hand up at himself, "so, it must be a problem with the guy who came after me. Ergo, the question- something wrong at home?"

She snorted, her head bobbing once for his reasoning and its unfortunate accuracy. "Actually, a little bit of both.”

"What'd I do?" he scoffed, a bit incredulously. 

"Not you," she chuckled. "Work and home."

"How's that?” he casually asked, going back to his tablet in the hopes of looking like he wasn't trying too hard to pry. Not that he necessarily was, but she looked and sounded like she had something to get off her mind.

Allison took the first sip of her whiskey, debating whether it was worth it to answer. She wasn't ungrateful for the drink or the invitation to sit down, but she saw he was working and didn't think she had the right to bother him with her troubles. In the quiet that followed her drink, Rollins put his pen down on the table and set his tablet aside. He leaned back to rest into the booth, watching her. 

"Okay. Fine," she relented, sitting up to lean on her arms folded along the edge of the table. "It's just-" She stopped, her eyes coming up to his and feeling a bit embarrassed. But Jack's expression was surprisingly patient and she rolled her eyes at herself and her hesitance. "You're right," she told him, with a humorless snort. "It's the next guy.”

"Wanna give me and the guys his address?" he casually offered. "We'll tune him up for ya a bit?"

She smiled a little more than she expected to and shook her downturned head. "No. Thanks though," she told him. "He’s not a problem anymore." She held up her phone for him to see in her hand, flatly announcing, "He dumped me. ...A few minutes ago. ...By _text_."

He hissed in a breath, baring his teeth in a wince. "Ouch," he sympathized. "Kind of a bitch move."

She sarcastically nodded. "Yeah, I thought so, too. Glad it's not just me."

Jack flashed a kind grin. "Sorry to hear that," he said, although he was far from meaning it.

"My schedule is too _unpredictable_ ," she said, making quotation marks in the air with her fingers as she spoke. "He’s looking for someone who's more _available_.”

"You're gonna have to stop making finger quotes," he warned, "or I'm gonna laugh and you'll think I'm being a dick." Allison chuckled and folded her arms again. He saw the disappointment in her face, despite the fading grin she had, and he offered, "I am sorry that happened, though. Sucks, I know."

"You, too?" she humorlessly snorted, taking up her glass for a sip. 

"Think it's probably been all of us," he figured, "at one time or another. Some more than others."

"I don't even know what to do anymore," she tiredly complained. "Give them a good cover to explain away the odd schedule and missed plans, they get lonely anyway. Tell the truth, when you think you can trust them, and they still aren’t happy."

"Takes a certain kind of person," he knew. "And, unfortunately, they always seem to be in short supply."

"More like out of stock," she muttered into her next sip. She finished swallowing and joined Rollins for a quiet laugh at her remark. She shook her head, grousing, “Doesn’t even matter. Barely knew the guy, just met a couple weeks ago, and with Quasam and then coming out here-“ She stopped and shook her head again. “Shouldn’t matter. It’s not like we even slept t-“ Her eyes darted up to his, catching what she was about to say. With a quiet clearing of her throat, she told him, “Never mind.” 

“Tough break,” he said, for lack of a better response. 

“Yeah, I guess,” she frowned. “Gettin’ a little tired of it, though.” Allison tipped her head, snidely complaining, “I thought girls were supposed to be the needy ones.” She gestured her hand up at herself. “We’re the ones who’re supposed to bitch about you guys never being around.” 

Jack snuffled a laugh. “You know you’re in the boy’s club, right?” he pointed out. “All the rules are backwards for you here.” 

“Great,” she facetiously smiled. 

“You know what your problem is?” 

“Oh, I’m dying for you to tell me,” she playfully rolled her eyes. 

Rollins smirked and went on anyway. “You get too attached.” 

Allison stared at him, incredulously. “Oh, is that it? The _girl_ gets attached? Well, there’s a revelation,” she dryly said.

He chuckled, correcting, “No, _you_.” He watched her shift in her seat, plainly unamused, and maybe a little uncomfortable. “What do you really want, Al?” he questioned. “You want a ring on your hand and somebody waiting at home with dinner ready every night?” She turned her eyes up to see him, her expression not entirely hospitable. “Or do you want a guy who’s there when you want him to be? ...Figure that out for yourself and you probably won’t be disappointed by people so much.” 

“I’m getting advice from _you_?” she scoffed. “I don't think I’ve heard the same girl’s name mentioned with you twice, except for- What’s-her-name. ...Jennifer?” 

“So, you’re saying you want the ring,” he assumed, taking up his pen while he pulled his tablet back in front of him and hoping to avoid Jennifer and their past arrangement as an item of discussion. 

“I’m saying, I’m not the kind of girl to sleep around,” she told him, a bit insulted for what he seemed to be saying.

“Nobody said you are, or that you should be,” he clarified, studying the map on his screen. “I’m just sayin’," he shrugged, glancing up at her through his brow, "maybe what you need isn’t what you think you want now or what you’d want later.” 

Allison blinked and stared at him for a moment. “I‘m not sure if that was bullshit or brilliance,” she marveled.

“I prefer the latter,” Jack chuckled, taking his glass up for a drink. 

She snickered, with a nod. “So, is that the secret to your success?” Allison mused. “The key to happiness is no attachments?” 

“Wouldn’t say that, either,” he shrugged, scanning his notes to find where he left off. “Things change. People change.” Thinking of himself, he told her, “Sometimes we just pick the wrong one.” 

“Ain’t that the truth,” she grumbled. Allison pointed a finger at herself, with a derisive snort. “Exhibit A: philandering fiancé.” 

Jack gave a sympathetic nod. “Yeah, there’s that,” he reluctantly acknowledged. “But we’re not all like him. There’s some of us that would never do that.” 

Allison’s brow flinched down in thought. The comment, and the implication, threw her. It almost sounded like a promise, the subtle sincerity behind the remark, that he, personally, hadn’t or ever would be unfaithful. But she quickly recovered, telling herself it must be some kind of a brag or reassurance that all men weren’t evil, out of some sense of duty to defend his brothers. There was no other reason for him to make such a declaration. Was there?

“Well,” she began, with a soft clearing of her throat and her eyes averted to her hand on her glass, “that's all very philosophical of you, but I can’t tell if you actually believe what you’re saying. On the one hand, it sounds like you’re a no attachments guy, but, just then, it sounded like you’re not.” 

Rollins was thankful for the glass at his lips giving him an extra moment not to answer. He’d already said too much, again, but he was just as curious to see where the conversation would go as he was nervous about it. He gave a nod, assuring her, “I know what I want. But the question, tonight, is...do you?” He gestured toward the door with a tip of the pen in his hand. "You could be out there, right now, hanging out with the rest of the squad at some bar full of hopefuls. What would you do, if you were? Sit at the bar, wallowing in self-pity over a guy, who clearly wasn’t worth your time, dumping you? Or would you do whatever you want and not give a fuck if someone else decides later on that you didn’t meet _their_ expectations?"

“You know they all went to a strip club, right?” she checked, with a dubious squint in her eye.

“Sounds perfect. Bunch of horny, drunk guys. Would be like shooting fish in a barrel for you,” he quipped.

She laughed with him, in spite of the small swirl of butterflies that kicked up in her stomach at his comment. When their humor subsided, her gaze dropped to follow her finger drawing a line down her glass. Maybe he was right. Maybe she was looking to replace what she had with Kurt; that stability and all the reassurances and comfort it brought. But, then again, her relationship with him had turned out to actually be none of that. Maybe she needed to stop looking for the next “one” and enjoy the moment more, letting whatever happened happen.

“Another drink, to figure it out?” he suggested, nodding toward her nearly empty glass.

Allison slowly shook her head. She didn’t see her problem being solved tonight and she knew from experience that the longer the conversation went on, the more her thoughts strayed in dangerous directions, thinking she was hearing hints and flirtations from her boss, of all people, she knew there shouldn’t be, regardless of how intriguing they might be to hear.

“Nah. I’m good thanks,” she said, eyeing the last couple of swallows waiting in her glass. 

“Suit yourself,” he shrugged, masking the let down that she likely wasn’t going to stay much longer. Jack lifted his beer to her anyway. “Here’s hoping things look a little better in the morning.” 

Addams smiled at the idea. “You’re alright, Rollins,” she told him, appreciative of how he’d humored her. “Not gonna say you’re the wisest man I ever met,” she tipped her head, with a pout of consideration, “but you surprised the judges tonight.” 

Jack chuckled, raising an eyebrow as he watched her snuffle a laugh with him. “Well, guess I'll have to try harder, next time we have a heart to heart,” he nodded. 

She gave a short nod, a soft, agreeable hum coming from her as she considered the last time he had said something sounding vaguely sentimental. “Hey,” she began, before she could stop herself, watching him finish the drink he was taking. “Speaking of that...” She bit the side of her lip, figuring it wouldn’t be too out of the blue considering how freely they’d been speaking already. “Been kinda wondering about something.” 

“What’s that?” he invited, putting his beer down. 

“About what you said back in Afghanistan.” 

Jack vaguely nodded along, his attention mercifully already down on the next note he was making by the time she’d spoke. “What’d I say?” he distractedly invited. He knew exactly what she meant. It could be only one thing, but he wanted to hear the question. And waiting for her to say it gave him a chance to come up with a couple responses. 

“You said you were afraid to lose me,” she told him, now a little worried he didn’t remember. She hadn’t really mapped out the ask and lost a little courage, saying, “So, I was wondering-“ An awkward and small laugh left her, shaking her head. “I don’t know what even made me think about it, but...you meant that like I’m an invaluable member of the team and it’d be a shame if you actually had to kill me...right?” 

He could see she wasn’t completely confident about bringing it up. “I don’t know if I’d go with _invaluable_...” he joked, expertly avoiding actually answering her question, with an easy grin in the side of his mouth.

Her head dropped, with a quiet chuckle, thoroughly embarrassed she’d even mentioned it. “Right,” she nodded, picking up her head, and swore to herself to let any delusions about whatever she thought she may have ever heard from him go. What was she thinking? What was she expecting? She tittered again, making a small, dismissive gesture with her hand, trying to come off as unconcerned and wave away the odd disappointment she was feeling.

“I was just...wondering what it meant. So, yeah. Thought that’s what it was.” Allison gave him a deep nod, putting her hands on the edge of the table to get ready to slide out of the booth, saying, "Well, I think I'm headed back." She pointed toward his work on the table. "You still got stuff to do, so...” 

His smile fell, seeing hers disappear from her expression and get replaced with something else he couldn’t quite decipher, as she shifted to go. A tick of a frown, maybe? Had he let her down, or did she get what she wanted? Either way, he didn’t want her to leave like that, but the best he could think to do was say after her, “You can take it however you want.” She stopped, caught at the end of the booth, and looked over to see him again. “I suppose it means something. What I said. If it needs to.” 

“If it needs to?” she repeated, turning back in to sit at the end of the booth. 

Rollins shrugged. “If you need it to,” he said, without much behind it, knowing the conversation needed to stop. He shouldn’t have spoken up again in the first place. He just couldn’t help himself, seeing her start to leave looking unsatisfied with the reply she’d gotten, for whatever reason. 

“Right,” she flashed a meek grin, not getting a clear sense of the reason he’d say something like that, except for out of pity. After all, she was already having a hell of a night, maybe he was just trying to make her feel a little less worthless. She nodded again, feebly excusing herself by saying, “Well... Can still hear the rain on the roof. Sounds like it might be picking up. I should go.”

The air was too heavy for him to be comfortable. Jack figured the same was true for her. She reached over to where she’d been sitting, taking up her tumbler for the last swallow of her whiskey and tipping her glass to him. "Thanks for the drink.”

"Well," he grinned kindly, "it's the least I could do, since there's no concierge to call for you."

That was it. She was sure now that any hint of flirtation or sentimentality had been a joke or figment of her overactive imagination again. Surely, it always had been. How could it not be? Just Rollins giving her shit. The awkwardness and shyness from before gave way to humor, and Allison snorted with a shake of her head, reminding herself that she needed to take things less seriously. Everything, actually.

“My thoughtful ex-husband,” Allison groaned, with the corner of her mouth tugged up in a reluctant grin as she put her glass back down on the table. 

“Here to help,” he grinned, pleased to see her mood lightening again. 

“Is outsourcing really helping, though?” she quipped, with a concentrating level in her brow, amused by his smile and the levity returned so quickly. “Or you just can’t stop giving other people orders? Either way, seems like the lazy way out.”

“I can only do so much,” he chuckled and took another drink.


	25. Chapter 25

Apr 2012 

“Man, I’ll give you one thing,” Allison nodded once, making a subconscious study of his faint smile. 

“What’s that?” Rollins arched up an curious brow. 

“Youan’ me,” she began, “sitting around at bars? We have _the_ most interesting conversations.“

Jack nodded, with a soft snort at the truth of the observation. “That’s interesting, in itself,” he noted, “isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” she chuckled, nodding along. “I guess it is.”

He eyed his glass in his hand on the table getting low, debating ordering himself another round. “What d’you make of that?” he asked, figuring her answer would decide for him.

Allison shrugged, feeling a soft heat in her cheeks she thought she’d sworn off allowing. There was a seriousness to the question she thought sounded misplaced, considering the joking that was going on. A small wrinkle of confusion came to her brow, wondering if her imagination was taking off again. “I don’t know,” she admitted, under the impression they had already stepped away from serious conversation. 

His head bobbed with a vague grin, settling on getting another drink next time he saw the waitress. He didn’t know what he was expecting, let alone why he’d be so let down that she didn’t seem to have anything else to say. He pushed his glass away from him and took up his pen, needing someplace else for his attention to be other than on Allison’s face at the moment. 

Watching him, Allison was thrown by the hint of let down she thought she saw in his fading smile. Had she misspoken this time? Had she set the line not to cross anymore at the wrong mark? Was there something she said that he read in to and she missed? Was he trying to say something?

It occurred to her, maybe neither of them was ever actually saying what they meant or asking what they wanted to know. It was possible. In reality, neither of them really could say anything. The rules wouldn’t let them. And both of them lived by the rules. Maybe they were both just reaching, hoping to see if the other would meet them halfway.

“Whatever we want it to, I suppose,” she said, albeit late, her gaze set on her fingertip pressing on the edge of the table.  
  
She didn’t say anything else, but after a moment she hazarded a glance up to see him looking back at her. His face was hard to read, stoic as she’d ever seen him. But Allison’s mind was racing, along with her pulse. She didn’t know why she said it, but the opening was there and, before she knew it, she took it.

We. It was the most forthright, and simultaneously generic, thing she could think to say. What was this thing between them? Was it anything at all? Every time she thought she figured it out, there was another curveball. These soft lobs were the best she could do. She had plenty of reasons to keep from being direct. But, she knew dancing around had gotten her nowhere.

“Well,” he finally said, his gaze dropping back to his paperwork and tablet, not trusting whatever might come out of his mouth next if he kept looking her in the eye, “why don’t you let me know, when you figure it out.” 

“Figure what out?” she couldn’t help but huff, falling back against the booth behind her. “There’s been a lot of questions.” 

The waitress came back over to check on the table and Jack declined her offer to get either of them another drink. It occurred to him that another beer and his answers may not be as easily explained away as they could be now. The waitress left his bill and moved on. Alone again, neither seemed to know if they or the other should be the one to speak first. Rollins’ head ticked back in a nod to himself, putting down his pen and resting into the booth back again, realizing he didn’t want to keep avoiding her, but fully aware of the thin ice they had stepped on to.

“A lot of questions,” he conceded, with a small nod. “Truth is,” he gave a thoughtful tip of his head, “it’s probably just the one question, though.” His attention went to pulling his wallet out of his back pocket. “I asked it earlier.” 

Allison gave an unsure sweep of her head, watching him count out cash to pay the check and leave a tip on the table. “Which one was that?” 

“I asked if you knew what you wanted,” Jack reminded her, tucking away his wallet. “I think, therein lies the answer to the problem.”

“It’s that easy, huh?” she skeptically mused, her eyes inexplicably drawn to his mouth for a moment while he wasn’t looking and mind wondering about the things he might be holding back.

“Sometimes the best approach is a simple one,” he nodded. “It doesn’t always have to be complicated, Princess.”

“No?” she questioned, and he shook his head for an answer. Allison snuffled a laugh to herself, giving a small shake of her head. It couldn’t be any more complicated, from where she was sitting. “No attachments...” she considered what he’d said before. “That’s how you keep it simple, huh?” 

“You could say that,” Rollins allowed.

She gave him a discerning look up and down. “You know it’s funny,” she cocked her head, a hint of a disbelieving grin on her lips, “I was sure, just a few minutes ago, that I wasn’t going to find any answers to my problems in a bar.” 

“And now?” he casually pressed. 

“Still haven't,” Allison admitted, with a sweep of her head. “But...” she inhaled, holding her breath for a beat as she nodded to herself once, coming to a decision. “Now, I’m about to say the craziest thing I think I’ve ever said.” 

A subtle level came to his brow, more than a little intrigued to hear what she seemed to be working herself up to, his gaze still held by hers. “And that would be?” 

Her eyes flicked down to the paperwork and tablet in front of Rollins, figuring it looked like he was mostly finished with the rewrite for tomorrow’s training outline, before putting her gaze back on his and saying, “My room. Ten minutes." 

The noise of the game on the televisions above the O club bar. The conversations and laughter of the other patrons. The clink of dishes rattling in bus trays being carried back to the kitchen. He was oblivious to it all. She had his complete and undivided attention, and, according to her unfazed expression, surprisingly few, if any, qualms about what she’d just proposed.

It was out on the table. There was no taking it back, no laughter to make it a joke to play the invitation off. No thin veils or sarcasm to hide behind anymore. ~~~~~~~~

She hadn’t given the invitation a second thought. For all the ways it was a terrible idea, it made sense at the time. For one brave and crazy moment, it all made sense. Regret only began to twist her stomach in the silence that had followed. She searched his face for a hint of any kind of reaction; some indication about whether or not her instinct about everything up until then was right, if she was an inch away from another let down tonight, or, dear god, whether or not she was in trouble.

But Jack was too dumbstruck to reply. Maybe he’d never actually thought he’d ever hear anything like that from her. Hoped, sure. Fantasized, yeah. But, god damn, he’d never thought it would happen. 

He ran back the night. That he saw, she hadn’t had anywhere near enough booze to be drunk. She couldn't have been drinking before coming in to the Club. The barracks were dry and there hadn’t been enough time for her to have gone off base and come back since their pass began. He had to consider, that, unexpected as it was, it was an informed invitation.

For what they’d been talking about tonight, and other conversations as less than professional colleagues before this, he knew that he’d put some things out there for her to pick up on or take as she wanted. A part of him had always hoped she’d see what he was trying to say but couldn’t and let him know if her part in it was more than just a game. Now that she’d given him a pretty undeniable signal that she had, he hesitated, thinking of the consequences, something he was always aware of but had never actually been confronted by, until now. 

Only a moment had passed, but Allison couldn’t bear to wait anymore. “Well,” she began, as casually as she could, her pulse wildly high and suddenly nervous attention following her hand to grab her phone and touch her pocket to make sure she had her keys for the barracks. “That’s that.” She flashed him a tight-lipped grin, awkward as it was for his lack of response to her offer and her gut telling her she had been so very wrong. Allison slid over to the end of the booth again to leave. She gave a small nod, dismissing herself with a respectful, “Good night, Sir.” 

His hand came up to his face, elbow pointed into the table and hand rubbing across his mouth to rest there to keep from calling after her and watched her leave. “Fuck,” he muttered to himself, letting his hand drop heavily to fall over his paperwork. Rollins pulled his hand back, looking around the table, as if there were some advice or direction how to proceed in front of him that he’d obviously missed. But he had nothing.

Apr 2012

Allison combed out her hair, letting it air dry. Not that she had a choice. The barracks had no extra amenities troops didn’t bring in with them. A hairdryer was a luxury she never traveled to field training with. She set out her clothes for PT in the morning at the foot of the bed, while she organized the rest of her gear for tomorrow’s exercise on the spare bed in the room. The nice thing about being the only woman on the team, she usually had her own room, unless there were other squads or teams traveling with them. While a roommate might be fun sometimes, Allison enjoyed the extra space and quiet tonight.

She crawled in to her bed, stretching out over the blankets and propped up with an extra pillow from the spare bed piled behind her, looking to find a movie on Netflix to lose herself in and forget the horrible embarrassment she felt after her drink with Rollins. She was well in to The Fighter, when she looked up from her phone at the knock on her door. 

Locking her phone, she left it on the bed, standing up to go to the door. She rolled an elastic off her wrist, twisting her still damp hair up to wrap in a loose knot as she crossed the room. Allison was almost dumbfounded at opening the door to see Jack standing in the hall.

"No shit," she marveled, turning out of the way, as he stepped in. In her surprise, all she could think to do to recover was joke, "Didn't think you had the nerve."

She actually had hoped he didn’t. She’d basically already decided he didn’t, at this point. Allison had barely stepped off the curb of the street corner of the O Club, before what she had done truly hit her. She’d taken the game too far. To another person and anywhere else, her invitation might have been forgivable, even excusable, as a joke. Hell, maybe understandable. But, made to her commanding officer, apparent friend with a good sense of humor or not, was way over the line. She had actually stopped mid-stride, a little mortified and wondering how she could take it back and convince him it was just another in the line of misplaced and meaningless flirtations that had somehow become part of their repartee in the last couple of months. The trouble was, she didn’t know how to take it back. Probably because a part of her didn’t want to. 

Allison had paced for several minutes in her room, staring at the alarm clock on the nightstand every time she faced it. Ten minutes passed, then eleven and fifteen, before she was relieved that nothing had happened. She had let out a groan of a sigh, trying to release the regret at ever having made the suggestion, hoping there wasn’t a harshly worded reprimand in her future. She realized he wasn’t coming and hopped into a hot shower to wash off the cold of the storm outside, and some of the shame she had felt. So much for the new confidence she’d found at the bar with his advice.

“What makes you think I ever don’t have nerve?” he shot back, watching her shut the door behind them.

Allison gave a short hum of derision, feeling out of her element and falling on sarcasm to deflect attention from her not knowing what to do. “Well,” she cocked up a brow, “you are late, my friend. I said 10 minutes, not 60.”

“Yeah, well, didn’t want you to think I was too eager,” Jack grinned, a better story than for him to say he’d been debating the reality of the invite the whole time. Looking over the room, he pointed to her gear neatly arranged on the spare bed, tutting, "Is this what you do with your passes, indulge your OCD?”

"Shut up, Rollins," she groaned, leveling her eyes and pushing some stray hairs back behind her ear on her way back to her bed to move her pile of PT clothes to a corner of the other rack and out of the way until the morning.

He pulled some pages folded long down the middle from his back pocket and handed them to her, saying, “Here. Updated outline for tomorrow, if the weather holds. You’re the only one who’ll be sober enough tonight to review it. Let me know if you see any problems.” 

She opened the papers to give them a look, thumbing the edges to see how much there was to read and relieved to be talking shop. “Okay,” she agreed, moving to put the papers aside for now.

He took a step to the side, edging his shoulder into her path on her way to the desk in the room at the foot of her bed. "So, how long's it been?" he wondered, as her eyes ran down him once and she turned to keep moving around him.

She snuffled a laugh, with a small shake of her head. "None of your business,” she said, racking her brain for what to do or say next.

"That long, huh?" Jack smirked, looking over his shoulder to watch her click on the lamp on the corner of the desk and put her copy of the paperwork down.

Glancing over her shoulder, she gave him a tired look. "And you?" she scoffed, as if she weren’t at least mildly curious. The weight of the end of their conversation at the bar had apparently been left there and the next iteration was becoming tentatively intriguing.

Checking his watch, Rollins cocked his head, with a thoughtful pout. "Long enough," he quipped. He wasn’t entirely sure if the humor played, as she still busied herself with a cursory read of the briefing’s first page. He decided to just put it out there and see what happened. They’d come this far, he figured. "So...we doin' this?"

Addams couldn't help the laugh that barked out of her, the best reaction she could give without giving away the butterflies swirling in her belly, straightening up again and brushing the loose hair away from her temple. "So much for waxing philosophical at the Club, huh? Just a dog lookin' for a bone, aren't you?" 

"Aren't we all?" He raised his hands in a shrug, reminding her, “You invited me over.”

Allison shook her head, her thoughts a sudden flood of regulations and penalties. “The invitation was a joke,” she said, not sure if she was convincing him anymore than she was trying to convince herself. “I thought it’d be obvious.”

“All the back and forth between you and me, lately,” Jack shrugged, a little emboldened that the conversation was still open, “figured it might come to a head somewhere down the line. Sounded like maybe you did too, so, why not now?”

He had a point. She wasn’t naive to it anymore. There had been looks she caught herself taking and the remarks that were beneath professional standards for them both. Maybe she hadn't been sure what let either of them let the other get away with it in the first place, but she’d be lying if she said she hadn’t started to enjoy it.

Those moments gave her a bit of excitement she didn’t have much of an explanation for, at the start. The time he called her “sweetheart”, even if it was just part of a ruse, and the subtle compliments he gave her sometimes. The flirty banter and the “failed husband and wife” schtick was fun. Considering it all now, it gave her a rush again. Maybe because she knew better. Especially with him; a superior officer.

She hadn't started out meaning to encourage anything. It seemed harmless at the time. She hadn’t really considered dissuading him before, and, now, she didn’t entirely want to, even despite the consequences. She liked the attention from him. There was something about it all that made her feel a little giddy. His comment about not wanting to lose her, before they had left Afghanistan, had stayed in the back of her mind for days after they’d gotten back stateside. And that he had kept playing along with their banter, despite the rules, made her curious about where it would go, if anywhere.

Curiosity was getting the better of her again and she swallowed her nerves, deciding to go for broke, once and for all, and see what happened. She’d know for sure, in a moment, whether or not they were all talk.

"You know what? You're right. I did invite you here." She caught the time on the alarm clock on the nightstand, seeing it was almost midnight and knowing technically she shouldn't have company this late, according to the housing rules. "So, what, you want me to read the PLO to you while we do it?" she sarcastically offered, waving a hand at the paperwork on the desk and then over toward the bed.

Jack smirked at her newfound frankness, more than a little surprised she’d seemingly changed her mind, but not entirely sure it wasn’t a bluff. After all, they had been playful before, facetious and easily dismissible as it could be made out to be for her part. But he’d raised the stakes coming to her room, and, he figured, she had to know it, too. Was the game evolving, or was she just setting him up to have the biggest laugh at his expense? 

He took a step forward and looked down at her. "Thought the whole point would be to have a break from work," he suggested.

"Is that what it is?" she checked, with a wrinkle of sarcastic confusion in her brow. A ploy to keep from showing the thrill she felt being that close to him.

His shoulder raised in a half shrug, his eyes wandering over her face. "If that’s not it," he noted, taking the chance to reach out and move the loose hairs she’d been fighting since he came in back behind her ear for her, "we might think about the regulations we'd be violating."

"Surprised you thought about the rules," she dryly said, aware of the rise in her pulse as her eyes watched his hand withdraw.

"Well, one of us ought to," he conceded, slow playing the conversation and waiting to see if she’d back down, moving in another half-step as he let the back of his fingers sweep down her arm as his hand came back to his side.

"So, we agree then," she reasoned, fairly certain now of what was coming and having lost interest in trying to fight it, "this is a bad idea."

"Of course," Rollins agreed, turning his hand to curve over her hip, encouraged that he had been allowed to touch her at all.

"Just so we're clear," Allison nodded for confirmation, her heart drumming in her chest and her eyes drifting down the front of him, her hand moving to twist the lose material of his shirt at his side in her hand and around her finger.

"Crystal," he nodded, taking a shuffling pair of steps forward, as she stepped back, finding herself against the wall.

"Could probably blame it on the drinks at the bar," she considered, despite knowing neither of them had consumed anywhere near the amount of alcohol necessary to make that rationale fly.

"Seems like a good excuse," Jack said, with a nod, leaning to put a hand against the wall beside her head.

She took a breath, a small shudder of anticipation in her exhale, as she hooked a pair of fingers into the belt loops of his BDUs, pulling his hips closer to hers. "And if anyone noticed you come in here...”

"I'd say I just came over to give you the copy of the PLO to review," he finished for her, his eyes turned down to see her hands get to work undoing the buckle of his belt. It wasn’t actually a lie. It had been his plan B to give her the paperwork and play everything else off as a joke, if he showed up and she shot him down.

"That's actually a pretty good answer," Allison conceded, as Rollins‘ right hand mirrored his left on her waist, thumb gliding up her side.

"Thanks," he grinned.

"No problem," she smiled back, making short work of the buttons of his fly before she stopped. "But one more thing..."

"What?" Rollins asked, his thumb sweeping under the hem of her camisole, bracing himself, half ready to be rejected.

"This," she said, pointing back and forth in the small space between them, "isn't a thing. No repeats. No attachments.”

"Who'd want it to be?" he grimaced, looking almost disgusted at the idea of more than just a one night stand.

"Good," she nodded, and Jack reached into his pocket for a condom.

Allison bit the side of her lip, having an actual moment of clarity about what a terrible idea this was, while Jack rolled on the condom. But they were both in agreement it was a one time deal, and she could shamelessly admit to herself that, if she were going to break the rules, Rollins was one of the most attractive options of her other single teammates to do it with. Sure, he could be a bit of a prick sometimes, but, she could finally admit, he was handsome as hell and his sarcastic humor and shit talking amused her to no end. Everything she admired about him before was just another line on a growing list of things she found enticing about him, that’d she’d been trying to talk herself out of acknowledging. As it turned out, he was everything she wanted, for right now.

His hands slipped her shorts and panties off her hips and she let them fall to the floor around her feet. Jack inched forward, part of him still waiting for her to laugh and say it really was all a joke. But her knees parted without any prompting and her palms moved up his chest to his shoulders, and he accepted that, for whatever reason, this was happening. Not that he could complain. He’d been a sucker for her, for so long. He’d drifted off to sleep more than once, imagining an opportunity like this coming his way.

He hadn't seen the shied smile before that ghosted over her lips as he dropped a hand to pull her leg up to his hip, but it might have been his new favorite thing. There was a small hitch in her breath, as Jack pushed into her, and he stilled for a moment, letting her adjust. There was a quiet groan from him, a profanity running through his head at how soft and warm she felt around him.

Her fingernails scratched lightly into the back of his hair and he bucked against her, starting to feel out a steady pace. Allison folded her arms behind his shoulders, leveraging herself between him and the wall. Jack leaned into the wall, his head turned down to her shoulder. He took in the subtle flowery scent on her skin, lost to wondering for a moment if it was a perfume or maybe the scent of shampoo from her damp hair that was so inviting.

She sighed past his ear, smiling at the feel of his rough hand moving up her thigh at his hip and his warm breath on her skin. Allison cinched her arms a little tighter, pulling herself to him and tilting her hips to his, finding a better angle to enjoy the friction between them. Jack lifted his head, taking advantage of the bare skin, biting at the point of her shoulder and sending a tingle through her.

It wasn't long, before Allison felt her skin heating up and Jack could feel the perspiration starting on his brow. He shifted, hooking his arm around her waist and pulling her up to him. Allison took her cue and wrapped her legs around his hips. A profanity slipped past her lips and put a smile on his, as Jack found a harsher rhythm with her shoulders pressed firmly against the wall. His hand come up between them, palming her breast beneath her camisole as she arched into his touch. It wasn't long after that he felt her clench around him, his own orgasm pulled out by the sensation, letting out a low grunt as a satisfied whimper from her went by his ear. She clung to him and he gave her a few more pumps, as they both panted quietly.

Jack let her down easy, leaning with her, his forearm bent against the wall. She pushed her hair back behind her ear again, as they both caught their breath. Allison gave his chest a soft thump, as she slid out away from him, the euphoria suddenly replaced by shyness, somewhat embarrassed for what just happened. Jack straightened up, watching her maneuver away from him from the side of his eye and spotting the bathroom to his right to go clean up. 

She turned over her shoulder at hearing the bathroom door latch. “What did you do?” she scolded herself, whispering as she dipped down to grab her clothes off the floor and quickly pull them on again. _For fuck’s sake_ , flirting and any apparent mutual attraction aside, and regardless how how good it felt, Rollins was her boss.

When he came back into the room, Allison was sitting crosslegged on the bed with his paperwork laid out in front of her and her attention on reading, seemingly too busy to notice him. He stood a little taller, clearing his throat to suppose, "You’ll, uh, make any notes or changes, if you see something I missed, yeah?"

"Yeah," she said, with a nod of her head. "Of course. I’ll just, um, make them on here and get it to you tomorrow."

"Okay," Rollins agreed, turning for the door, getting the sense that she regretted what they had just done, but not sure himself what to say about it. “Just bring it with you to PT in the morning.”

"Sure," she distractedly nodded. She hesitated to look his way, adding an uncomfortable, “I’ll see you in the morning, then.”

"Yeah. Good night," he told her, before shutting the door behind him, snuffling a disdainful scoff at how it seemed like nothing had happened.

On his way back to his room, he groaned to himself realizing, whether or not they both agreed to it, they’d crossed a line they couldn’t come back from. His father had told him, the chance with her was worth a career, but seeing her reaction after gave him an uneasy feeling. In front of his door, he paused before working the key in the lock, wondering if he should go back and say something to her about it. Jack shook his head and unlocked his door. He was pretty sure, even if he had the words, now wasn’t the time.


	26. Chapter 26

Apr 2012

For the rest of the training, Rollins and Addams had zero interaction alone. Part of Jack figured that was for the best. If they didn’t have the privacy to have an awkward conversation, neither of them would have to face the embarrassment of an apparent and very big mistake. When the team returned to DC, two days later, they still hadn’t said anything to each other about that night.

The squad turned in their gear and debriefed, just before 1800hrs that night. Everyone was looking forward to enjoying the upcoming weekend, now that the warm Spring weather had arrived. Allison was looking forward to a few days away from Jack, figuring, if she was lucky, if she hadn’t heard anything from him about their little indiscretion by now, she might not at all. Staying out of his line of sight, she hoped, also meant not having to be the one to say something.

When they got through a night out at Barny’s after work a week later and everything went like it always did, despite the chatting between them seeming a little less than usual, Allison figured she was in the clear. There wasn’t much interaction at the Triskelion either that wasn’t about business. Just the same, Allison stuck close to her friends to have a buffer on hand for awhile. Walking down the hall from the locker rooms with Rogers, she looked up at his nudge.

“Hey, isn’t that-“ 

“Yeah,” she nodded, putting on a smile for the man walking toward them from the elevators. Allison caught his attention from his phone by saying, “Major Rollins, hello.” 

The Major looked up, smiling to see them. “Call me Bill, please,” he insisted, reaching out to meet Steve’s offered hand. “Cap,” he nodded, before turning to shake Allison’s hand. “Allison, nice to see you two again.” 

“What brings you to the Triskelion?” Rogers invited. 

“Meeting Jack for the ball game, tonight,” Bill said, tapping a pair of fingers at the visitor badge hanging on his shirt. “Running a little late, though. Traffic.”

“Sounds like fun,” Allison grinned. 

A smile pulled back the side of his mouth and the Major suggested, “Say, you guys are off, too, right? You should join us.” 

Rogers and Addams shared a look, both starting to fumble, before Allison humbly waved off the offer. “Oh, no, thanks. We were actually just headed to the gym for a little extra PT.” 

“We wouldn’t want to intrude,” Steve politely seconded. 

“Besides,” Allison added, checking her watch, “it’s already so late in the day. Finding tickets would b-“ 

“Already got ‘em,” Bill happily mentioned, pulling out his wallet from behind him. “Here,” he said, thumbing out a pair of tickets to hand them, “meet us down there, if you don’t want to ride along.” 

“Oh, wow, really, uh...” Allison hesitated, eyeing the tickets being put into Steve’s hand, as Rogers shrugged helplessly, “we shouldn’t. I mean, it’s nice of you to offer, but the boss’ free time is-“ 

“Nonsense,” he insisted. “Me and a buddy have been going in on season tickets for a few years now. He can’t make it, tonight. The seats’ll got to waste without you.” 

“Hey, Pop.” 

The trio all looked to see Rollins coming down the hall. Bill winked at Jack, when the others couldn’t see, saying, “Hey. I was just finding someone to fill Hank’s seats tonight.” 

Jack spotted the tickets in Steve’s hand. “I see.” 

“But we were just saying,” Rogers began, “we didn’t want to interrupt any family time.” 

The Major gave Jack an insistent look, subtly tipping his head toward Allison while the others still weren’t looking. Rollins gave a quick, but tired, look to his father, before looking to Steve and Allison, to shrug, “Seats’ll just be wasted, if you don’t go.” 

“Are you sure?” Rogers checked, making a small motion to hand the tickets to Rollins. 

Jack nodded, despite Allison’s apologetic grin. It wasn’t that he minded the extra company. It was how overtly his father was setting him up. Specifically, how he was making no attempt to hide his intention to get Allison to come along from Jack. 

“So, it’s settled then,” Bill smiled. “You guys go change, and we’ll see you down there.” 

... 

“You gonna pretend to be pissed at me the whole night?” the Major frowned, giving his son a once over next to him. 

“I _am_ pissed at you,” Jack said, lolling his head over to his left to glare at his father. 

Bill snorted, with a skeptical grin. “For what?” 

“You know damn well,” he muttered. Rollins shifted in his seat, complaining, “What were you-“ 

“Oh, come on,” he grimaced. “I’m just helping you along. If you never see your little bluebird outside of work, how will y-“ 

“I see her plenty outside of work,” Jack argued. “And stop calling her that.”

“I mean without any of the other guys from the team aroun-“ 

Jack sat up, sharply gesturing a knifehand over his shoulder, referencing their seat mates who’d gone to make a beer run, to interrupt, “The hell do you think _Rogers_ is?” 

“Well, what was I supposed to do?” Bill shrugged. “He was right there. Couldn’t invite her and not him.” 

“You could’a not invited either,” he groused, settling back down in his seat to watch the game again. Rollins glanced over, feeling his father's stare on him. “What?” 

“What’s wrong?” he wondered. “I thought this’d be a good chance for you two to get to know each other better.” 

Jack’s focus was pulled back to the game by the smattering of applause around them. “We already know enough,” he grumbled. 

“What, is she seeing someone else?” Bill pressed. “It’s not Rogers, is it?” Jack scoffed, giving a narrow shake of his head and folding his arms as he watched the game. It was only a moment, before his father asked, “Something happen between you two?” When Jack kept quiet, Bill sighed, supposing, “She said no, huh?” 

Rollins’ jaw worked against itself, while he debated his answer. He shook his head before admitting, “We hooked up one night. Didn’t go over well.” 

“What? When was this?” the Major asked. 

Jack scratched at his jaw, his attention still purposely on the field, trying to keep the embarrassment and disappointment out of his voice as he said, “Couple weeks ago.” He swept his head. “I should’ve known better.”

When his dad had nothing to say right away, Jack hazarded another glance at him. Bill sighed, with a sweep of his head, “I’m sorry it happened like that.” 

“Me, too,” he agreed, with a small nod. With an uncomfortable exhale, Jack told him, “It’s not gonna happen again.” 

“You sure about that?” Bill wondered. 

Jack nodded, cocking up an irritated brow, aggravation apparent in his snarky reply of, “Pretty sure.” The crowd roared for a pop up to center. When the applause for the catch died down, he explained, “She regrets it.” 

“She said that?” he asked. 

“She doesn't have to,” Jack knew. “Nobody’s said anything about it. Just back to work, the next day.” He shrugged, saying, “Like it never happened.”

“Well,” his father conceded, “maybe that’s the best you can hope for.” 

Jack quietly hummed, before he and his father looked up, hearing Allison brightly ask, “Who’s thirsty?” as she came back in to their row.

Allison handed out cups of beer from a tray in one hand, before she and Rogers took their seats next to the Major. Rollins took solace in his drink, not reacting to the reassuring clap on the arm from his father. The game went on and eventually Jack shrugged off the resentment at his dad. He knew the Major meant well. It was Jack’s own fault for not telling him sooner that he’d burned up his chance with Allison. 

At least he could say not much had changed between him and Allison at work. They’d caught a beer with some of the guys at Barny’s a couple times since, and things seemed normal there, too, albeit with a distinct lack of conversation between them he thought. Whether it didn’t mean anything to her or they were pretending nothing happened, it was a relief. For what he saw of Allison, she was already over the whole situation. Jack knew he’d eventually stop sulking over the rejection. In the meantime, he could keep up appearances in front of her.

... 

“This was fun,” Allison offered with a kind smile, watching the crowd go by and trying to fill the silence while she and Rollins waited for Rogers and the Major to hit the restroom after the game. Jack only hummed, barely lifting his chin in a nod, as he eyed a vender going by. She wasn’t sure if he was in a mood from work, or something else, but she nudged his arm for his attention. “You okay?” 

Jack uncrossed his arms, letting them fall down to his sides and tucking his hands into his pockets. “Yeah.” 

It was quiet for a moment, both of them looking over the crowd and seemingly avoiding each other, before Allison spoke up, feeling compelled to say, “Hey. Sorry for tagging along. Cap and I just-“ 

“Don’t worry about it,” he told her. 

“No, really,” she insisted, “if I’d known it’d bother you this much, I-“ 

“The two of you coming along’s not bothering me,” he defeatedly said. He finally looked at her, admitting, “It’s just you.” 

“Oh,” she blinked. Allison recovered with an uncomfortable grin, trailing off, “Well, when you put it that way...” 

Rollins exhaled heavily, rolling his eyes at himself, before he explained, “That’s not what I meant. What I meant was-“ He stopped, losing his train of thought at her uneasy glance up at him. He started over, “Any other day, it wouldn't be a thing to have you tag along. Or Rogers. But today...” He swept his head. “Today’s one ‘a those days my head’s someplace else.” 

“Where’s that?” she cautiously asked, still feeling a little out of sorts. 

He inhaled deeply and let it out slow. “In the barracks at Camp Henry,” he told her, carefully watching her reaction. She seemed a little taken aback, betrayed by the subtle flinch down of her brow. “Wondering,” he went on, “how to get around that. ‘Cause this place we’re at is-“ Rollins shook his head, lost for how to finish. 

Allison nodded to herself, knowing exactly what he was trying to say. “This is going to get awkward, isn’t it?”

“It’s not already?” he cocked up a sarcastic brow, and then dropped and shook his head. He reconsidered the tone of his remark, saying, “Sorry. I just- I’ve never done anything like that and...” 

He fell off again, but he didn’t have to finish. “Yeah,” she quietly agreed.

“We have to work together,” Jack reminded them both.

Allison nodded her understanding. “If you can pull it off,” she began, “it’d be great if we can just get back to the jokes and shit.” She tipped her head, agreeing, “It’s been...weird.” She hurriedly added, “I’m not laying blame, or anything. I just mean that...obviously, people didn’t really think about this ‘til after the fact.” 

“Something like that,” he agreed. 

“It was what it was. That’s all,” she continued to excuse. “Didn’t mean anything. Doesn’t have to come up again.”

“Right,” he said, as if he could say anything else, seeing his father coming back.

“All set, Jack?” Bill checked, parting through of the crowd. 

“Yeah,” he straightened up.

Rogers rejoined them, a moment later. He and Allison gave their thanks to Bill. They shook hands, before turning to be on their way with the rest of the crowd. Jack gave them both a nod, saying he would see them at work. On the ride back to the Triskelion to pick up Jack’s car, his father asked if he’d said anything to Allison while they were alone. Jack nodded, summing up that they pretty much decided to ignore what happened. The Major surprisingly didn’t have a comment to make. He only hummed quietly and gave a subtle nod, seeming to share in his son’s disappointment.

Apr 2012

“From Position Sul,” Rollins announced, his gaze taking a walk down the line of shooters, “Mozambique, on the command of “fire”. Reload, if you need to.” His gaze traveled back the other way. “From Positon Sul,” he repeated. “Shooters, ready.” Jack checked the line, seeing everyone had drawn and set their weapons. “Fire!” 

The group made their head and body shots. He wasn’t running a clock, but he was confident everyone was under two seconds. The shooters stayed up on target. 

“Fire!” 

Two to the body. One to the head. 

“Fire!” 

Jack held them to three rounds, eyeing the line of shooters. “Recover,” he ordered, watching everyone reholster. “The line is safe?” he checked, and the operators showed their empty, open hands behind them. “Score ‘em.” 

Jack folded his arms, holding his clipboard by his side, as the pair of firearms instructors assisting him for the day checked targets. The two helpers started from opposite ends of the line and met in the middle, each giving him a thumbs up overhead to say everyone had successfully completed the drill. Rollins took his pen from the slim pocket on the sleeve of his uniform shirt and put another check mark on the page. 

By his estimate, most everyone should have hit or been close to slide lock on the pistols by now. He checked his watch, seeing they had another 20 minutes or so of light and the scheduled range day. Knowing his squad still had at least one full magazine left of .223 on them, he figured he’d let them burn it off instead of making them unload. 

“Rifles up!” he barked, and the operators on the line took aim at their targets down range. “On command, you will fire ‘til dry.” For where he was standing, Waterson was the closest man to him. Rollins gave him a clap on the back, telling everyone, “On Danny’s ‘woo’. Standby!” 

Waterson smiled wide, before howling out, “Woo!”

The early crickets singing in the field around them were drowned out by the reverberation of the squad firing at once, the rapid fire muzzle flashes in the cloud that started to gather looking like lightning in a storm cloud and briefly brightening the dulling evening light. It was over in a few seconds and Rollins smirked to himself at the happiness a little full-auto can give at the end of a long training day, seeing the grins on everyone’s faces as they waited for their next command.

“Alright. Clear your weapons. When a range master checks your weapon, reholster, strip anything you got left in your mags, and start policing up the brass,” he ordered. 

His instructors went to work, checking that weapons were empty and safe, and Jack turned his attention down to his paperwork. Everything was in order and everyone’s scores for the day were more than acceptable. Jack walked away from the firing line, pulling his hearing protection and eyepro off on the way to one of the tables nearby. Dropping his clipboard and equipment off, he took the walk from the rifle pad over to the range control building to check in with the staff and let them know they were finishing up for the day.

On the way by, he couldn’t help tracking Allison in his periphery, curious to see if she’d acknowledge him passing. She didn’t even glance over and the small disappointment showed in a brief tension in his jaw. He shouldn’t have been surprised. If he strung it all together, they’d probably said less than a hundred words to each other at work since that night in the barracks.

By the time Rollins got back to his squad, it was dark enough for the flood lights for the range to have come on and the guns, gear, and ammo were mostly packed up. He met up with Dennison, stacking extra ammo cans onto a cart to be put back in the range armory. While the two men chatted about the day’s performance, Jack panned his gaze around to be sure his team hadn’t overlooked any task that needed doing before they left for the night. 

At the far edge of the concrete pad of the firing line, Addams and Emery were just dumping some of the spent casings they’d swept up into a garbage can for recycling. Allison looked up and around, dusting her hands together before wiping them off on the back of her BDUs. She stopped, her gaze catching Jack’s from across the way. They shared a look, both seeming like there was something to say between them but neither of them even giving a grin before Allison broke away from the moment to catch up with the guys she’d ridden out with for the trip back to the Triskelion. 

Allison was at a loss for what to think or say. She followed behind her teammates at her own pace, dragging her feet a little as she mulled over what the look from Rollins meant. She shook her head, adjusting the sling of her rifle across her. The look shouldn’t mean anything, she knew. They agreed that night didn’t mean anything and they weren’t going to talk about it. She lifted her chin, telling herself it was her own insecurities making her read into things too much. She figured Rollins was probably as uneasy as she had been lately and was just looking to see that their agreement from the ballpark still stood. That was all. 

They didn’t seem to have anything to say to each other that wasn’t work related lately, and Allison was beginning to resign herself to the idea that the particular friendship they’d enjoyed before had come to an end, if only to keep professional distances and keep themselves from any kind of trouble that could come up from their little indiscretion getting out. If that was the way it had to be, she wasn’t necessarily happy about it, but she could respect it, if it meant keeping her job. Nevertheless, things felt more wrong than they did that night and it wasn’t any comfort to her to see him still as levelheaded at work and easygoing with his friends outside of it, while she saw herself holding back on nights out with the guys and, frankly, a little miserable for it. It wasn’t fair that he seemed to be over things so easily.

Rollins dismissed himself from Will, telling him he’d meet him in the parking lot. He just needed to get his things. The truth was, Jack just wanted a minute to himself. He gave a narrow sweep of his head, exhaling heavily at whatever it was that just happened in that look between him and Allison. Fishing around in his pocket for his keys, he came across his phone first and paused. With his hand around the device in the cargo pocket of his BDUs, he thought about sending Allison a text, suggesting they meet somewhere and have a talk. 

That night at Camp Henry was still bothering him. He wasn’t sure what, but he knew he had something to say to her. He suspected, from that look, that she had something on her mind, too. But Jack let go of his phone and reached past it for his keys. Muttering a curse to himself, Rollins gathered up his things and headed for his car in the lot. Now wasn’t the time either. It had been a long, 9 hour day in the sun already. Everyone was sweaty and tired and ready to go home. Maybe he’d give it a little more time. He was headed out of the country in a few days anyway, doing some training for a week on the Spanish coast. By the time he got back, he figured things would either be better or he’d know what to say.


	27. Chapter 27

“Commander Rollins!” Jack lifted his attention from the map spread out on the hood of the humvee to look past the men gathered around with him and see the soldier coming toward them. In his hand, the man held up a SatPhone, saying, “Urgent call for you, Sir.”

Rollins straightened up from making his interrupted note during the briefing for the next exercise of training with the Maderal Oleaga on the eastern Spanish coast. He moved back from the table, giving Dennison a clap on the back and telling him to carry on in his place. As Jack stepped away, Will picked up where Rollins left off and Rollins took the phone off the hands of the Spanish Ensign.

“Rollins,” he answered, walking a little further away for some privacy and relief from the noise of the unexpected helicopter landing about 70 or so meters away.

Rumlow didn’t bother with pleasantries. “It's about damn time they found you. Listen, I’m on my way back to DC. There’s been an accident.”

“What kind of accident?” Jack asked, despite knowing whatever the answer was wouldn’t be good, if it was taking the boss away from a meeting with HYDRA Command in New York. 

The fraction of hesitation before he spoke wasn’t lost on Rollins. “A bird went down,” Brock said, “just outside of Innsbruck. Mechanical failure, maybe. Whatever it was, we got one fatality, one critical, and the others walked away, for the most part.

“The critical‘s in a local hospital,” he went on, as Jack threw an annoyed glance over his shoulder at the helicopter that still hadn’t powered down yet. “Co-pilot’s not stable to move, if he makes it at all. In the meantime, I need a senior officer from the Division to verify ID on the casualty so we can get them home ASAP.”

“From the Division?” Jack repeated, his scowl deepening, as he walked a little further from all the noise. “Who’s plane was it?”

“It was ours,” Brock answered. “Coming home from Bucharest.”

“The fuck were we doing in Bucharest?” he questioned, thinking out loud, mentally running down the list of pending and current assignments he knew about for the squads and coming up empty-handed for who could be operating in the area. He was in Spain with a handful of the other Division trainers for the week. A lot could have happened in the few days he was gone already. Maybe he had missed a notification. “Which team?”

There was an uncomfortable weight to the exhale Rumlow gave. “No teams,” Brock said. “It was a Horseman assignment.”

Rollins swallowed the sudden lump in his throat and asked, despite the sense of dread he had to hear the answer, “Who was on that flight?” 

“Addams and Fender,” Brock reluctantly told him. It didn’t matter that Jack didn’t have the words to ask the name of the casualty, because the Commander specified, “Addams is dead.”

“Jesus fuc-“ The words caught in his throat before he could finish, his eyes ticking aimlessly around.

“The Lieutenant was next up for an assignment,” Brock explained. “Fender went along as part of the cover and to assist with recon on the target.” There was a pause and Rollins managed to find the breath that had fallen out of him. “I’ll wait to make additional notifications, until we get word from one of us,” Brock solemnly told him. “Information coming in is sketchy, at best. I got no direct line to our people. Everything’s coming in in bits and pieces,” he grumbled. “It’s a fuckin’ mess over there. God damn investigators hounding us, while we’re trying to keep everyone out of our fuckin’ business. We got people on the way to deal with the locals about the crash investigation and liaise for us until the pilot is stable to transfer.” 

Rollins wiped a hand down over his mouth, gaze unfocused and set ahead of him on nothing in particular. He nodded to himself, processing what he’d heard. If one of the pilots was the critical injury, that meant Fender was okay. It gave him some comfort, but not much.

“For now, only us and Fury know we have anyone down. I can’t do anything with the half-ass info I have,” Brock complained. “You’re the closest officer I got.” Jack rubbed his thumb and ring finger deep in his eyes, as he exhaled. “I’m sorry, Jack, but I need you to get out there to make the verification and get me some god damn useful information; talk to the pilot and Fender and tell me what the fuck happened. Because if this isn’t an accident-“

“You think it wasn’t?” he questioned, a suspicious furrow coming to his brow.

“I don’t fucking know what it is,” Rumlow told him, “but if it isn’t, we’re losing time.”

He gave a tight nod to himself, muttering, “Yeah.”

“They’re being recovered to Ramstein, by Austrian Air Force, as we speak,” Rumlow went on. “I pulled some strings to get the body released.” Jack’s stomach dropped at hearing those last few words. “They should arrive sometime in the next two hours. USAF should be landing any minute for you.”

Rollins looked back at the helicopter and its blades still rotating, noting, “They’re already here.”

“Your pilot’s got orders,” Brock told him. “He’ll get you to Morón Air Base where you’ll link up with our guys to get you the rest of the way. I gotta get back to DC for Fury, to try and get a handle on this.” He took a beat before saying, “I’m sorry to do this to you, big guy, but I-“

“It’s okay,” Jack interrupted. He nodded to himself. “I’ll take care of it.”

“Turn your phone back on and call me the second you got anything,” Rumlow insisted.

“Copy that,” Jack said and disconnected the call.

He turned around, eyeing the helicopter waiting for him, for a moment. Jack walked back to the others and put a hand on Dennison’s shoulder for his attention. When he looked, Jack passed him the phone, telling him nothing except that he had to leave and for him to assume command of the training team. Jack told him to secure his gear for the trip home and he would catch up with them when they returned to DC in a couple days. When Dennison asked if everything was alright, Rollins could only give him a nod and walked away. 

Crossing the beach, Jack bowed his head under the wash of the rotors. He climbed into the open door of the helicopter and took a seat. He adjusted a headset over his ears and was tightening the seatbelt across his lap, as the turbine whined back up to full power to lift off and the pilot spoke up.

“Welcome aboard, Commander. We have orders to take you directly to Morón. A Quinjet will be standing by to take you on to Ramstein Air Base. We’ll have you there in no time, Sir.”

...

On the flight from Spain to Germany, Jack had stripped off his plate carrier. Walking down the hallway of the medical building, following his escort to a small waiting room to see Fender and speak with the base’s attending physician, the heavy gear and its MOLLE attachments hanging in his left hand occasionally bumping the side of his knee as he moved. The Airman told him the base pathologist was being forwarded dental and fingerprint records from SHIELD to assist in a quick verification of their deceased operator, to help facilitate the paperwork of getting the body off base and returned to the States as expeditiously as possible. 

The Airman stopped, gesturing ahead of her to the open doorway and giving Rollins a flash of a sympathetic grin, saying, “Your officer is in here, Sir. Your pilot is getting checked out again. I’ll have the doctor see you as soon as he’s available. If you need anything, I’ll be at the desk just down there,” she pointed and he looked at the station at the next corner.

“Thank you,” he nodded.

Rollins watched the young woman leave him to go to her desk. He inhaled a deep breath, holding on to it before slowly exhaling to steel himself. As ready as he’d ever be, Jack held his head a little higher and squared his shoulders. He peered through the windows in to the room as he walked, keeping an eye on Fender who was slumped forward, with her head in her hands above her knees. She was alone, sitting in the middle of a row of chairs and in a pair of Air Force BDU pants and boots with a desert sand tee, a courtesy he figured base staff had extended his troops on their arrival earlier. 

Jack stepped through the doorway of the waiting room and reached to set his armor and gear in the nearest chair, announcing himself by gently saying, “Jill?”

The sight of her tear streaked face stopped his heart and Jack was struck dumb. He blinked, staring back into the puffy, red eyes of Addams, as she turned her gaze up to him and shook her head, her voice cracking as she simply said, “Gone.”

“Al?” he breathed out, still in disbelief, even as Allison stood up to meet him half way. “They told me you were dead,” Jack managed, his eyes giving her a thorough once over. “Jesus Christ,” he muttered, a subtle wrinkle of confusion in his brow. 

There was a small tremor in her lip and Allison pressed her lips together to stop it, as she slowly shook her head. “No,” was all she could manage, before she felt the burn in her eyes again and the water pooling on her lashes.

There was no hesitation, when Jack took a step in and wrapped her up in his arms. A sob went through Allison, as her hands curled over his arms, and he held her a little closer. It was quiet, except for the sounds of her softly crying, the noise muffled by her face buried in his chest. Rollins smoothed a hand back over her hair, gently shushing her.

“It’s okay,” he quietly told her. “You’re going home. All of you.”

She nodded her understanding, taking back a hand to wipe at her nose. “I’m sorry,” she bowed her head, backing out of his arms, as she wiped the heels of her palms under her eyes. “Excuse me...Commander, I didn’t m-“

“It’s alright, Al,” he assured her. With a hand on her shoulder, he invited, “Sit down. Tell me what happened.”

Shaking her head, slowly, Allison sank into the nearest chair. Jack took the seat beside her, sitting at an angle to see her and keeping his hand on her arm, as she told him, “It’s all a blur.”

Rollins nodded, sympathetically. “Are you okay?” he checked, looking her over for himself. “Are you hurt?”

She sniffled, brushing the back of her finger across her nose. “I’m fine.”

She lowered her head and her hair fell forward again. Jack couldn’t help reaching up to brush it over her shoulder and back behind her ear. Something about not being able to see her face and know it was her, instead of Fender, unsettled him. He had to see it was still her. 

“One minute we were fine,” Allison shakily recounted. She lifted her chin, turning her eyes up to the ceiling to keep the tears from gathering. “The weather wasn’t too bad. It was raining when we took off, but it wasn’t bad.” She blinked back some tears. “They said there was a bit of ice, but it was fine.” Allison sniffed, wiping at her nose, and shrugged. “And then...the jet pitched and they couldn’t get her back.” She shook her head. “I remember them making the mayday and telling us to brace and then-“ 

She stopped, her mouth open like she’d forgotten what else to say. She closed her eyes and slowly shook her head, dropping her gaze to her hands twisted together in her lap when her eyes opened again.

“These two firemen,” she started again, “pulled me- helped me out. Had to cut the harness off of me. There was smoke and I could smell the fuel and- ...Nealon,” she nodded to herself. “Nealon must’a been knocked out. No one answered up front when I yelled. I’d not know. Maybe he was trying to help Gamble. He came back in to the cabin, right when someone popped the rescue hatch from outside. Gamble was trapped, he said. They took him out on a backboard. He’s still in Austria.” She pressed her lips together again, taking a deep breath before she could say, “He was hurt pretty bad.”

Rollins let out a quiet sigh, bowing his head and giving her arm a reassuring squeeze when she put her head back in her hands to cry again. He needed to call Rumlow. He had to tell them that, somehow, they got it wrong. Addams was alive and they had lost Fender. But he had more questions and couldn’t leave her like this.

After a long moment, he gently pressed, “What happened to Jill?”

Allison nodded, tightly. She knew he needed answers and swallowed hard to be able to say, “She bled out. I tried-“ She swept her head. “I tried, but, when I came to, she was on the deck. I couldn’t get out of my seat. I could barely reach her hand to pull her to me and- I couldn’t find anything. There was- It was just... _things_ everywhere. Like everything just exploded. But I couldn’t _find_ anything.” There was an angered frustration in her voice and Jack saw the tension in her neck as she spoke. “I couldn’t hold- If I’d have just had a fucking belt; _some_ thing to make a tourniquet from...”

Allison quieted down again, shutting her eyes, with her face tilted up to the ceiling, remembering, “But she was so pale. She knew.” A shaky breath fell out of her, as she crushed her eyes down tighter. “God, she was so scared,” she whispered. “I just- I held her hand and tried to keep her awake ‘til someone could find us,” she went on, a new pain coming to her voice, as she made a weak gesture in the air. “I told her it‘d be okay. All I could do was lie to her. ...I told her it would be okay.”

She wiped her thumb under her eyes. “When they got inside, they started working on Scotty. They took me and Nealon out and went back for Jill last.” Allison coughed and pushed the heel of her hand across her chest for the discomfort she felt there from it. She swept her head, saying, “I didn’t want to leave her there alone, but they-“

“You did everything that you could,” he confidently told her, although he knew it wouldn’t do much, if anything, to comfort her. “She was lucky to have you with her.”

Allison stood up and crossed a few steps of the room to a box of tissues on a small table in the corner, holding down another fit of coughing as she did. With her back to him, she blew her nose and wiped at her face. Rollins hung his head, dragging a heavy hand back over his hair. He took a deep breath, trying to think of what to say next. 

He was conflicted about what was going through his mind. He’d known Jillian Fender for several years. Her entire career with SHIELD had been with STRIKE. He knew her family and had even played a couple rounds of golf with her husband, after she got remarried last year. Rollins was wounded by the loss of his friend. And he was simultaneously disgusted with himself, for the relief he felt to see it was Allison who lived.

He’d spent the entire trip from Cadiz dreading having to ID Allison’s body; wondering, after a plane crash, what shape she would even be in to be recognized. Seeing Addams look up from the chair, instead of Fender, Jack could almost liken the feeling of relief to joy. And the thought of celebrating one friend being alive instead of the other sickened him and made him feel guilty in a way he never had before. 

Rollins gave Allison a minute to compose herself, taking the time to try and clear his own head, before he asked, “Where’s Nealon? I need to know how the crash happened.”

“He’s uh...” She faltered and shook her head to get back on track. “He’s with the doc. He felt a little dizzy, awhile ago. They’re worried he might have a concussion. Didn't say how long it’d be.” She managed to flash a weak grin. “Guess you’re stuck in the waiting room, too.”

“Got no place else to be,” he told her, with a kind smile. 

She made a limp point toward his gear a few seats over from him. “Oh, yeah?” she quirked up a brow, trying to grin.

Jack looked over at his things and shrugged. “Not anymore, anyway,” he conceded. She pulled another tissue from the box, before coming back to her seat, and Jack cautiously grinned at the brief smirk his joke had gotten from her. “When was the last time you ate?” he asked. “Need something to drink?”

“Yeah,” Allison coughed out an awkward laugh, with a bob of her head. “Yeah, I could use a fuckin’ drink.”

...

Jack sat with Allison for another half hour or so. They didn’t say much, but at least she’d stopped crying. The Airman came back to tell them Nealon could have visitors, offering to show them the way. Jack told Allison to wait and keep an eye on his gear, promising to be back after he checked up on Nealon and made a call to update their situation.

Rollins followed along through a few turns of the hallways, before he was pointed in to a small room where Nealon was sitting on the side of an examination bed. He looked a little relieved to see Jack when he stepped into the room. “How are you, Mark?” Jack asked, eyeing him over and taking note of the cast on his left wrist and forearm.

“Been better,” he said, with a weak grin. “Minor concussion, turns out. A couple broken parts and good bruises.” His expression sobered, before he asked, “How’s Al holding up? Any update on Scotty?”

Jack settled on, “She’s doin’ alright.” He swept his head, adding, “Haven’t heard about Scott, yet. We’re shuffling some people around, trying to get this under control. Someone should be with him soon, if they’re not already. I’m sure it won’t be long ‘til I hear something. I’ll keep you both posted.”

Nealon nodded. “Thank you, Sir.”

“What the hell happened up there?” Rollins asked.

Mark shook his head. “It’s like I said when I phoned it in to the Hub,” he explained. “We we’re flying through a storm. Everything was fine when we left DC and the same when we started for home. By the book. Didn’t half-ass anything. Visual inspections and everything before we left, both trips. She was fit to fly. Just a light rain when we took off.”

Rollins nodded along, knowing Nealon and his copilot were both good aviators. They pair flew assignments for his team, and the others, regularly. He had faith that they had done everything by the book.

“About a half hour before the crash, there was an electrical fault warning. Somewhere in the wiring, we lost the thermals. A little ice must’a started building, but we didn’t notice anything. Everything was smooth, looked good. Didn’t see any buildup. We called it in and decided to push on. We weren’t far from breaking out of the edge of the cell.” He dropped and shook his head. “I made a mistake. We could’ve set her down or redirected around the storm. We had the time to wait the weather out.”

Nealon let out a heavy sigh. “The nose pitched down and both engines flamed out. We couldn’t recover. We tried to set her down the best we could, but...” He lifted his chin enough to meet Jack’s gaze again, sounding more than a little ashamed when he figured, “I’m sure you know what happened to Sgt. Fender.”

Jack gave a solemn nod. “I know enough,” he told him.

“We hit hard,” Nealon frowned. “But we took the worst part of it up front. Cabin held up pretty well, thank god, but the right side of the cockpit-“ He swept his head. “Crumpled like a fuckin’ aluminum can.” He nodded, saying, “Fucked Scott up, real bad.” He winced, telling Jack, “Me and Gamble signed up with SHIELD at the same time. Went through flight school together. Scotty’s been flying with me for 8 years.”

“You did the best you could,” Rollins assured him. “It’s out of your hands, now.”

“I can’t call his wife and tell her I fucked up like this,” he winced. “I can’t tell her it’s my fault.”

“Come on,” Rollins quietly urged, taking a couple steps to be able to put a firm hand on his shoulder. “You won’t have to. He’s gonna be fine. We’ll get him home soon. It was an accident. You couldn’t control a failure like that.” He tipped his head toward the door. “They told me you’re cleared and released. Let’s go keep Al company.”

Mark’s head and shoulders sagged. “I can’t face her, right now,” he quietly admitted. “I know her and Fender were-“ He swept his head, saying, “I’m gonna stay here, for awhile.”

Jack nodded his understanding. “You come and find us, when you’re ready,” he told him and Mark agreed with a bob of his head. Rollins gave his shoulder a small clap and stepped back, pausing a beat before saying, “On the way here, they told me it was Addams. How’d they get that wrong?”

“No. No, I told them it was Fender,” Mark insisted. “It wasn’t a secure line. I had to use a civilian cell phone off one of the cops. It wasn’t a good connection. They must’a misheard me.” He shrugged, figuring, “I guess Allison and Jillian do sound alike. But I told them it was Fender, Sir, I swear.”

“It’s okay,” Rollins assured him, with an patient grin. “It was our mistake. I’ll take care of it. Try and take it easy. I’ll let you know as soon as I hear anything about Gamble.”

He looked a bit sheepish, when he nodded. “Thank you, Sir,” he said.

Jack turned to leave, pulling the door shut behind him. Starting back down the hallway, he took a turn into the stairwell, following the emergency exit signs to find his way outside. There wasn’t much left of the evening sun, when Jack reached into the cargo pocket on his left leg and dug out his cigarettes. Fishing his zippo out of his pants pocket, he lit up a cigarette and pulled a long drag.

He couldn’t smoke on the Seahawk that picked him up. Couldn’t smoke on the Quinjet that brought him to the airbase. The barely half of a cigarette he got on the walk across the tarmac from the helicopter to jet at Morón didn’t count, and telling the marshaller who said he was in a no smoking area to fuck off was a waste of precious seconds he could have been smoking. He hadn’t lit up since breakfast before the day’s exercise began. Jack didn’t bother with the math of adding in the flight time and the wait inside the medical center. He knew it’d been too long, considering how fucked up the day had been.

He exhaled the smoke through his nose, tightening his lips to hold the cigarette in place at the side of his mouth, while he took out his phone to call Rumlow. He pinched the cigarette between his thumb and forefinger, hiding it in his palm to protect it from the steady breeze down the side of the building, to answer Brock’s question of what he had for him.

“All three of them are here,” Jack confirmed. “But there’s been a mistake.”

“What mistake?” the Commander suspiciously asked.

Jack took another pull off his cigarette, exhaling as he said, “It wasn’t Addams. It was Fender.” He understood the angry confusion, when Brock questioned his response, and he clarified, “They must have taken the report wrong. Nealon said it was a shitty connection.”

“The fuck?” Rumlow muttered.

Rollins sympathetically nodded. “I know. But I’m telling you, I was just looking at Al. We lost Jill.”

“Jesus fuckin’ Chr-“ he started then stopped. “Thank god I didn’t make that notification yet.”

“No shit.” Jack couldn’t help the small snort that accompanied his response, humorless as it was. He went back to his cigarette, while Brock got back on track.

“We’ve got people in Innsbruck, now,” Rumlow said. “Gamble’s still in surgery, but it looks like he might pull through. How’re the other two?”

“Just left Nealon,” he reported. “They got him bandaged up. He’s shouldering the blame on this one, but I think he’ll be alright. ‘Specially if Gamble makes it.”

“And Addams?”

Jack waited to finish his breath in and out with his cigarette, before he answered. “She’s pretty fucked up,” he bluntly conceded. “Mentally. Physically, she looks alright, but I haven’t seen a doc yet to know otherwise. She says she’s okay, but we need to get her to the Farm, lickety fuckin’ split.”

“That bad, huh?” he almost sounded worried.

“Hope not,” Rollins said. “I know it’s only been a few hours, but-“ He swept his head and took another drag. “She’s shaky. Never seen her like this.”

“As soon as you guys land,” Brock assured him, “we’ll get her out there. Her and Nealon.”

“I’m gonna need you to send out Fender’s medical records for the pathologist to sign off with,” Jack sighed.

“Already on it,” he promised. “Stay on ‘em over there. I want everyone on a plane and back to DC as soon as possible.”

“I’ll take care of it,” Jack nodded. “Just have a bird and crew on standby for me.”


	28. Chapter 28

May 2012

It took a few more hours, before Jack was standing on the tarmac of the Air Force Base, waiting to board the jet home. Ahead of him, Fender’s flag draped coffin was being secured to the deck of the Quinjet for transportation back to DC by a crew from the airbase. Nealon and Addams stood by, solemnly watching next to Jack. Mark had kept his distance, until Rollins sent an airman to collect him for the trip back. The only good thing Jack had to say about leaving Ramstein was at least Gamble had come out of surgery alive.

Onboard the jet, Nealon took a seat near the cockpit. It was always where he was most comfortable being in a plane, he’d said. Jack wasn’t surprised when Allison locked down the jumpseat about mid-cabin and near the head of Jill’s coffin at the rear of the plane. To give her some space, Jack took a seat on the opposite bulkhead. He slipped into the straps of his harness and put on his headset. The chatter of the pilots in the cockpit, as they went through their preflight checklists and got clearance for their departure, was white noise as Jack tipped his head back to rest on the top of his seat and closed his eyes. It had been a long day and it was going to be another eight and a half hours before they touched down in DC.

When Jack opened his eyes again, it was to the subtle jostle of the airframe. Nothing unusual or rough for a flight, but he hadn’t been sleeping very soundly to begin with. He checked his watch and noticed Nealon asleep in his seat near the front of the jet. They still had another 6 hours until they were home, and the inky black sky outside the cockpit windshield reminded him it was only another 5 or so til the sun would start its way over the horizon. Across the way, Allison sat with her head turned down and her attention on whatever she was doing with her hands in her lap.

He watched her for a couple of minutes. She seemed oblivious to the attention. Rollins took in and let out a deep breath. The doctor at the airbase reported that Allison was treated with oxygen and some meds for smoke inhalation, before she was transferred to Ramstein. The medical staff back home would follow up with more blood tests and X-rays, when they were stateside, and keep an eye on her at the Farm. Aside from the smoke, Allison was relatively unscathed. Just some bruises, minor lacerations, and a mild neck sprain. 

Jack unbuckled his harness and stood up to stretch. It caught Allison’s attention, but only for a moment, before she gave her focus back to picking at the nails of her right hand. Even in the dimness of the cabin’s nighttime lighting, she could still see a few thin, brownish lines from where she’d missed washing Fender’s blood off of her hands. Allison closed her eyes at the sudden memory of her hand stretched out and fumbling to clamp down above the wound on Fender’s leg. Her eyes snapped open, when she heard the seat next to hers being locked into place. She saw Rollins sit down in her periphery, scratching a hand down the side of his head as he tightened his face against a yawn.

“You okay?” he asked, noticing Addams picking at her cuticle.

“Yeah. Fine,” she nodded, concentrating on her meticulous work.

Jack watched her scratching at one nail with the other. A frown pulled at his lips and he checked, “Have you gotten any sleep?” She shook her head and he gently urged, “You should try to get some rest. It’s been a long day, and we still got a ways to go before we get home.”

“I’m not tired.”

She had to be exhausted. At least, she looked the part. Her eyes were still swollen from crying and, he suspected, at least somewhat from having been awake for the better part of the day, like he had been.

Taking a different approach, he told her, “When we land, you’ll be heading out to the Farm. You and Nealon both. They’ll debrief you after you settle in, but you have to get some rest between here and there, Al.”

“The Farm?” she repeated and promptly shook her head. “No. I can’t go to the Farm now. I have to go to Jill’s funeral.”

“If the docs clear you,” he allowed, “but, for right now, we have to worry about getting you and Nealon well and back to work. That’s the priority. Those are your orders.”

The thought of not saying her goodbyes to Jill put a twist in her gut and brought the heat back to her eyes. The female operators were a close knit group. Fender and the others had been incredibly welcoming when Allison and the others transferred to DC. Not that they needed protection from the men in the Division or were ever anything but respected, but the women were always each other’s biggest cheerleaders and supporters, knowing how hard it could be to be a woman in their line of work, especially in such small numbers. They were good friends and they enjoyed a bond together they didn’t share with the rest of their teammates. Allison had to be there, for her sisters, for Jill, and herself.

Allison’s hands wrung and fingers laced together tightly. She nodded to herself, knowing there was a procedure they had to follow, but it didn’t make her feel any better. She would have to figure out how to convince the staff at the Farm let her go, if only for a day, if they told her she had to stay. She saw a new spot of blood in edge of a crease of a knuckle on her ring finger she’d missed before and began to scrape it away, telling herself she needed to focus; one thing at a time. First, she had to get her hands clean.

Rollins eyes ticked down to see what Allison was looking at, and he realized what she’d been doing. With a heavy sigh, Jack reached over, covering her hand with his to keep her from worrying over it anymore. “Stop,” he told her, and Allison dropped her head. “It’s okay, Ally,” he promised, with a subtle nod. 

He barely heard the sniffle from her, over the noise in the cabin. She raised her head, blinking a few times as she nodded. “Yeah,” she quietly agreed. “Okay. I’m done.” 

“You need to try and sleep,” he reminded her, his hand still over hers. 

Allison nodded along. “I’m fine. I’ll get a nap in later, or whatever.” 

Her stubbornness was usually endearing, but Jack was getting worried. “I can’t sleep, if you don’t,” he told her. 

She pressed her lips together tightly, nodding to herself. She knew she was already fighting it, but she just couldn’t relax. The painkillers she was given in Innsbruck, for her neck and to ward off the inevitable aches, or worse, she’d feel after the crash were wearing off. Every small jostle or bounce from the airframe sent her heart racing. She’d never been uncomfortable flying before, but if she could have gotten home any other way now, she’d have taken it in an instant. 

Her eyes fell to her lap, and Jack’s hand working his fingers into hers to hold. She inhaled deeply and let it out slowly, somehow feeling a little better at the small gesture. Allison flashed an appreciative grin, small as it was. He told her to try and rest, promising that he would stay up and keep an eye on the others. 

____________________

May 2012

Fender’s public memorial was over hours ago. The Division was there to line the roadway to her graveside and stand behind the civilian mourners in straight-lined ranks and Class A uniforms, all except Charlie Team’s First Squad who remained at the Triskelion, on call for any deployment. STRIKE’s honor guard had stood watch at the visitation the night before and carried Fender to her final resting place, saluting her with rifles. Her family was left to grieve privately with their friends, with the thanks of a grateful nation.

Allison and Nealon were on furlough from the Farm. The shrinks had given their blessings for the two to return to DC for 24 hours, giving them a narrow window to attend the evening visitation and the next day’s services. They were on a short leash now, having only a couple hours until they had to back at the SHIELD rehab facilities in Virginia. Failure to return on time would mean an AWOL charge for each, and there was a driver and car outside waiting for Allison and Mark to make sure they didn’t miss their window.

Gamble was still in the Infirmary, arriving back in the States a couple days after the others. He would be for some time. After that, he’d be sent out to the Farm to continue his recovery. In the meantime, Nealon called daily, to check up on him and keep his spirits up, until he could visit in person. He and Allison had spent four days in Virginia at the Farm, so far, there for evaluations and rest, before being granted their furlough. Mark had told Allison, it was frustrating for Gamble not to be able to attend the services, but Nealon assured him he would give his condolences and apology to Jill’s family.

Allison stood with him, when Nealon spoke to Jill’s husband on his and Gamble’s behalf, before the service began that morning. It was a difficult conversation to be a part of, but Fender’s husband assured them he understood it was an accident and everyone had done what they could. He said he knew the risks of the job, when he married Jill and could appreciate that at least she wasn’t alone and was with friends, doing the work she loved. Nevertheless, Allison still saw the hurt and loss in his eyes, and it cut her deeply to see. 

Slowly, maybe a little reluctantly, anyone who was sitting rose to their feet. There was a murmur through the the bar, as everyone checked their neighbor and their neighbor checked theirs, making sure everyone had a drink. The night was winding down and it was almost time to say goodbye. 

Rumlow picked up the bottle of Jameson Mary had left on the corner of the bar for him and walked over to the hightop table placed in the doorway between the front and back rooms. Jack stepped forward with him, setting his drink on the edge of the table as the Commander put down his own tumbler to unscrew the bottle’s cap. Allison and the others waited quietly, drinks in hand. A shot was poured into the single, empty glass on the table, with a tap of the neck of the bottle to the lip of the glass before it was put aside. The glass had been waiting there all night, next to a framed portrait of Fender in her dress uniform and a lit votive candle that was nearly burned down now.

After a thoughtful pause and a contemplative stare at the drink he had poured, Rumlow lifted his gaze to look around the silent room to see his men gathered in mourning. He turned to Rollins, instructing, “Call the roll.” 

From attention, the Lt. Commander began to call out the names of the Alpha Team operators alphabetically. “Spc. Collins.” 

“Here, Sir!” he answered.

Jack called the next name, from memory. 218 persons under his and Rumlow’s command and he knew them all. The next answer came and the pattern continued, for several more replies.

“Sgt. Lombard.” 

“Here, Sir!”

“Pvt. Melchiona.” 

“Here, Sir!”

“First Sergeant Fender.”

There was no answer this time. Jack mentally counted out a three second pause, before he spoke again, a little louder this time, for, “First Sergeant Jillian Fender.” After the next deliberate break, Rollins raised his voice again to call for, “First Sergeant Jillian E. Fender.”

When his last call went unanswered, the silence in the room hung for several long and reverent seconds. Rollins took up his glass from the table before Rumlow solemnly ordered, “Honor the dead.” 

There was a loud knock, as dozens of shot glasses and tumblers of whiskey simultaneously were tapped to the tables before the operators drank their final salute to their fallen sister.

Allison set down her glass on the table, her fingertips lingering around its rim and her eyes dropped to the same. She looked up, feeling a hand smooth across her shoulders to put an arm behind her neck. She flashed a grin of appreciation, weak as it was, to Mickelson at her side. He gave her a small tug and Allison let go of her glass to turn into his offered embrace. 

From the end of the bar, Rollins gestured for another bottle of whiskey. Mary reached under the bar to grab another bottle of Jameson, part of a few extra cases brought in for the occasion. No one was there to get drunk, but the number of anticipated visitors warranted the extra ordering.

Throughout the evening, over 200 current and former operators had been through to commiserate with their colleagues over their shared loss. Agents assigned to the Division and others from the other directorates that worked closely with STRIKE had passed through to pay their respects to the teams and many of the techs and operators from the TOCs and Hub came in to remember the soldier they all worked with many times. Even Director Fury had stopped in for a drink with the Division command staff at a table in the back. 

Jack accepted the bottle from Mary with a brief, but polite, grin. She wouldn’t give him any shit tonight for his lack of enthusiasm. He twisted open the seal and set the cap aside. Rumlow came over to join him, clapping a hand on his back and giving his shoulder a brotherly shake. He set down his empty glass and Jack served him another shot, after he’d finished pouring his own. Rollins set the bottle down nearby, but far enough away to let others know it was free for the taking.

He turned around, leaning back against the bar with his drink in hand. Next to him, Brock took up his glass and offered it to him in a silent toast, a gesture of empathy between them, for what they’d just done. It had been a couple years since there had been a need for a final call of the roll. It never was easy. 

Jack tapped his glass to Brock’s and they both threw back their shots. Rollins twisted to place his glass back on the bar, muttering a weary, “God damn it.”

Rumlow nodded, his head bowed at the glass in his hand. “Fuckin’ hate this,” he seconded. He put down his tumbler, with a heavy sigh, palming his hands on the bar and straightening his arms to prop himself up. “Ceremony for the Memorial Wall is Tuesday,” he mentioned. “They started the engraving today.” He looked over to Jack, saying, “First Squad for Alpha is back in rotation that week, but if any ‘a them want to attend the dedication, we can find a way to excuse them for it.” 

“I’ll drop them out and slot Delta2 in to the rotation to cover for the day,” Jack decided. “It’s just one day.” 

“Yeah,” the Commander nodded. “That’ll work.” He gave Jack a discerning once over, before asking, “You alright, big guy?” 

Rollins gave a nod and turned back around to get himself another shot. As he poured, he considered, “It’s always strange, getting back to work without them.” 

“Takes awhile for the new normal to set in,” Brock agreed.

“I was glad, ya know,” Jack admitted, finishing his pour and pushing the bottle over to Rumlow. “At Ramstein, when I saw her. When I saw Allison. I knew Jill was gone, but-“ He swept his head, still disgusted with himself. “I couldn’t help it.” He swallowed his drink in one go. “Still makes me fuckin’ sick.” 

Rumlow didn’t respond right away, not that Rollins expected him to. But he was surprised when he finally did say, “Be careful with that. Let that shit go.” He pointed a finger at him, to insist, “You own it, and you let it go.” His finger pressed down into the bar for emphasis that, “We take care of the ones we got left. We don’t regret the ones we lost. We keep moving, to honor them. Don’t taint the memory with some bullshit about being human.” 

Jack nodded along. “Yeah.” 

“We’ll give them some time to heal,” he went on, “but we have to fill Fender’s slot on the team.” 

“She’s gonna be hard to replace,” Rollins conceded, his gaze wandering over the room and catching sight of Allison tucked under Roger’s arm across the way. 

“We‘re not replacing her,” Rumlow swept his head, reaching around Rollins for the whiskey to pour another shot for himself. “We can’t replace any ‘a the ones we lose. We just find someone else to fill the roster.”

“Cody’s next in line for promotion, in that squad,” Jack mentioned. 

“He’ll do alright,” Brock nodded his approval. 

“Estherhaus could step up, when Cody takes Top,” he figured, but then Rollins shook his head considering, “Quinlan’s been thinking about transferring out, eyeing a spot with SF. They were pretty tight. Without Fender, I think he’ll finally do it. That’s 17 years experience, right there, lost with him and Jill.” He frowned, with a sweep of his head. “The rest are pups. That team’s too fuckin’ young, anymore.” 

“We might have to look at some laterals,” he agreed. “Shore ‘em up.”

“From where?” Jack groused, already aggravated with the rosters’ structures without even actually reworking them yet. “We’re losing two to retirement within the next eight months on Bravo. Charlie’s got another one coming, by the end of the year.”

“Five slots then,” Brock put the bottle aside, deciding, “We go over budget and roll deep, while we run a recruit class through and ‘til the old guys time out and an’ we‘re even numbers again. Fury’ll just have to suck it up for a few months. We’ll look at the rearranging the teams next week, an’ we’ll open up for recruit applications in two weeks. I’ll settle it with Fury tomorrow.” 

“Yes, Sir,” Jack dutifully nodded, as the Commander took his drink and made his way back into the crowd. 

Across the room, Jack finally saw Allison give in to a smile, brought on by something the group she was with had said. It was the first time he’d seen her smile, reluctant as it was, since he last saw her before his trip to Spain. Mickelson’s hand went to her shoulder, giving it a squeeze as Strickland poured another round of shots for them and Rogers.

During Allison’s stay at the Farm, she had regular appointments with a shrink as part of the fitness for duty assessment ordered by Rumlow. The rest of the time she spent resting and relaxing. She had a low dose painkiller for some lingering aches and bruises after the crash and a prescription for a sleep aid she hadn’t needed to use yet, just in case. She was optimistic to be back to duty on Monday, and was looking forward to the structure and exertion the work offered, eager to be busy and for the distraction. But for the rest of the night, she planned to crawl in to a bottle. The driver outside would see she got back to Virginia safely.

____________________

June 2012 

“How you hold in’ up, son?” 

Jack looked over his shoulder and gave a pretty noncommittal nod, as his father stepped out onto the balcony. The Major had come over to watch the Nationals game, neither of them interested in taking the chance for a rain delay or cancellation with the possible storms in the evening forecast. They’d made the right call, staying home this time. The game went on under a light but steady shower for the first six innings. Jack had stepped outside for a smoke in the middle of the seventh.

“Doin’ alright,” he shrugged, ashing his cigarette over the railing where he was leaned onto his forearms. 

“Any word on filling the roster?” he carefully asked, moving up to pocket his hands and look out towards the city view. 

“We moved some bodies. Applications are still open for the upcoming vacancies,” Rollins nodded once. “We’ll do the review, see what we got to run a recruit class.”   
  
“How’s that pilot?” the Major wondered, still looking around.

“Good,” Jack was pleased to report. “He’s being transferred to the Farm next week to start rehab. And Nealon will be back up and flying in a couple weeks.”

Bill gave an approving hum, before meeting his son’s gaze. “And how’s Allison?” 

“She’s fine,” he told him, dropping his attention to eye what was left of his cigarette before bringing it up to his lips, ready for another drag, adding, “Been back online almost a week now.” 

“Good,” he grinned, while Jack took a pull off his cigarette and looked down over the balcony. “From what you said about that trip home, I was a little worried about her.” 

Jack nodded along, as he exhaled his smoke. “She’s tough. Probably more than anybody knows,” he figured.   
  
“I know you were worried, too,” he added.   
  
A subtle groan left him, as Jack straightened up from his lean to reach over and snuff out the end of his cigarette in the ash tray on the small table nearby. “Jesus,” he quietly complained. 

“Don’t _Jesus_ me. I remember you standing in my house and telling me you thought she was dead,” Bill reminded him, squaring himself to look Jack in the eye. “I saw that look when you told me about getting that call. It wasn't even her, thank god, but I know that look.” Jack huffed, rolling his eyes as he turned to head back inside, even as his father was still talking. “That was the look of a heartbroken man.” 

“No heartbroken men here,” Rollins muttered, bending down to pick up the empty dinner plates and beer bottles from the coffee table, as Bill followed him back inside.

“I know what I saw,” Bill confidently maintained, sliding the balcony door shut behind him. “27 years in the Army, I've seen that look more times than anyone ought to. Boys losing their girl to Jody, losing their buddy to a bullet. I know what hurt and loss look like.” 

“I didn’t lose Allison,” Jack argued, throwing him a quick glare on his way to the kitchen. “We lost Jill. And besides...you can’t lose what you don’t have.” 

“Talk to her, son,” Bill urged, stopping to stand in the kitchen doorway while Jack put the dishes in the sink.   
  
“About what?” he scoffed, running the water to rinse out the bottles for the recycling. 

“About how you feel about her,” he said. “It’ll be a worse feeling later, if she’s gone and you never had the chance to tell her.” 

Rollins put the pair of beer bottles aside on the counter and shut off the faucet. He shook his downturned head, leaning on his palms pressed into the edge of the sink, questioning, “And what do you think I’m supposed to tell her? Hm?” Jack straightened up and turned around to rest back against the counter, folding his arms tightly across his chest and cocking up a brow. “Whatever you're thinking it is, it’s not. Never will be.” 

“Just tell her you care,” he insisted. “That it matters t-“ 

“It doesn’t matter,” he swept his head. “We fooled around once and it clearly didn’t change anything. She doesn’t want to get into it and she’s right not to. It’d only cause trouble. It was a mistake.” 

“It may look like that now,” the Major conceded, “but you’ll never know if you missed your chance, if you’re not honest with her. Whatever happened and what I know you feel for this girl are two different things.” He pointed at Jack to emphasize, “You quit feeling sorry for yourself and take the shot.” 

“It’s not that easy,” Jack tiredly sighed.

“Of course, it’s not,” Bill swept his head. “Nothing worthwhile is.” He gave a resigned shrug and told him, “I just want you to be happy, son. I know you just lost your friend,” he acknowledged with a solemn nod. “A life like this doesn’t give the mind or body time to heal the way it should. But it’s also the reason we’ve got to push on and take those chances we do get. A man never gained what he didn’t risk for. A day, a month, a year from now, the next one might be her. And I’ve seen regret kill a man just as fast and brutally as anything. Don’t let that happen to you. Just...think about it.” 

Jack gave in to a nod, resigning, “Yeah.” 


End file.
